Dark Have My Dreams Been
by DearestLizzie
Summary: Started before the Gravedigger storyline was wrapped up on the show so a different take on the situation. Some hurt/comfort and, eventually, fluff. The Gravedigger is back and has targeted someone Brennan loves. Angsty but BB all the way. Eventual fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Have My Dreams Been **

Oh, God, it was coming. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel the evil creeping towards her, stalking her like prey. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her fear like a tangible thing gnawing at her insides. She curled deeper and deeper into a ball, trying to make herself invisible, and cowered in the darkest corner of the room. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything was alright now. Wasn't it? Isn't that what he promised? Her eyes squeezed shut, she started rocking back and forth and whispering over and over, "He promised, he promised, he promised."

Suddenly she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot open wide and fixed on the door to her fragile sanctuary. It was here. Her lips moved in a wordless prayer as she pressed herself even closer to the wall behind her. "He promised," she whispered desperately just as the door flew open and suffocating darkness flooded the room. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Oh, God, it was coming. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel the evil creeping towards her, stalking her like prey. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her fear like a tangible thing gnawing at her insides. She curled deeper and deeper into a ball, trying to make herself invisible, and cowered in the darkest corner of the room. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything was alright now. Wasn't it? Isn't that what he promised? Her eyes squeezed shut, she started rocking back and forth and whispering over and over, "He promised, he promised, he promised."_

_Suddenly she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot open wide and fixed on the door to her fragile sanctuary. It was here. Her lips moved in a wordless prayer as she pressed herself even closer to the wall behind her. "He promised," she whispered desperately just as the door flew open and suffocating darkness flooded the room. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still. _

"Temperance!" The hoarse cry still echoed as Booth bolted upright, his body damp with sweat, and looked frantically around his darkened bedroom, his eyes desperately searching for the huddled, terrified figure that had been so real to him just moments before. Realizing it had just been a dream, Booth attempted to steady his harsh breathing. God, it had seemed so real!

He extricated himself from the tangle of sheets and made his way to his bathroom, desperately needing to wash away the lingering fear he still felt. As he reached for the tap, Booth glanced into the sink mirror and started a bit at hisown reflection. His face was still ghostly pale and his eyes retained a haunted look. A frown marred his features when he glanced down and saw that his hands were trembling. He had never reacted so strongly to a dream before!

Booth quickly splashed cold water on his face and the back of his neck, bracing his hands on the sides of the sink and allowing his head to fall forward. He dimly heard the clock on his bookshelf chime the hour. 4:00 A.M. Bones would be heading into work within the next hour or so. Booth's head shot up as he realized that, if he left now, he could arrive at the Jeffersonian just after she did. He had the most driving need to see her, to make sure she was alright. He didn't even attempt to rationalize that it had only been a dream as he grabbed whatever clothes he could and threw them on.

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Having arrived at the Jeffersonian a good twenty minutes earlier, Temperance Brennan was already completely absorbed in yet another body, focused entirely on discovering the story that lay hidden within. She was so involved in her work that, despite the early hour, she barely heard the beeping that indicated a security card had been swiped to gain access to the platform. The next thing she knew she was grabbed from behind and turned around. Bones was preparing to level whoever had dared to manhandle her when she checked herself and stared incredulously at Booth.

"Booth, what is going on?" she demanded, her brow marred by a frown. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy and red-rimmed, his normally impeccable clothing slightly disheveled as if he had just thrown them on before running out the door.

"Are you alright?" Booth asked almost frantically, his eyes running over her as if making sure everything was where it should be.

"Of course I'm alright," Brennan responded, concern creeping into her voice. "Booth, you look awful. What's wrong?"

Booth dropped his hands from her arms and wearily ran them over his face. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't get a lot of sleep tonight."

Bones removed her gloves, tossed them on the table, and gently put her hand on his arm. "Let's go to my office," she suggested. "You look like you could use some coffee."

Booth didn't object and allowed himself to be led into Brennan's glass-enclosed sanctuary, sinking wearily on the couch.

Bones set the coffee down in front of Booth and sat beside him, simply waiting for him to explain.

Booth sipped the hot, soothing beverage, glancing at her from time to time. When he finally felt he had pulled himself together he turned to Bones and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I just didn't get a lot of sleep. I can get a little punchy when I'm tired."

"What kept you up?"

Booth shrugged and studied his coffee. "Nothing, really," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "It was silly. A bad dream."

"About one of your old missions?"

Booth's eyes darted to Bones' face, searching for any sign of curiosity or condemnation, and found only sympathy. "Something like that," he replied vaguely, for some reason unwilling to share what had actually happened.

"I understand, you know," Bones told him, her voice gentle. "I occasionally have dreams about Guatemala." She smiled at Booth's obvious shock. "I know, I don't talk about it much." Bones looked down at her lightly clasped hands and shrugged. "It was . . . terrible," she admitted, her voice distant and filled with memories best forgotten. She gathered herself and raised her eyes back to Booth, allowing herself a small smile. "But I remind myself they're just dreams. They can't hurt me."

"Yeah," Booth said softly. "That's not exactly what I'm worried about."

Before Bones could questions his cryptic answer, Booth's cell phone rang and broke the moment.

"Duty calls," Booth said, a wry smile on his lips as he raised the phone to his ear. "Booth."

"Booth, it's Cullen."

"Yes, sir," Booth replied, rising and moving a few steps away.

"Are you with Dr. Brennan?"

His brow furrowed in confusion, Booth glanced briefly at his partner. "Yes, she's right here. Sir, what is this about?"

Sitting behind his desk in his office at FBI headquarters, Cullen sighed deeply and braced himself for the reaction he knew was coming. "Booth, we've received a ransom demand." Cullen paused briefly, then pressed on. "From the Gravedigger."

There was silence from the other end of the phone. "Booth?"

"What are the details?" Booth's voice was cold, clipped, as if he refused to allow any emotion to show through.

"I'll give you all the information when you come in." Cullen paused again, knowing that Booth was going to especially hate the next part. "And we've called Thomas Vega to help us."

"Shit."

"Booth your personal feelings about him are irrelevant," Cullen said sharply, while silently agreeing with his agent. "The Gravedigger is a slippery bastard and we're going to need all the help we can get to catch him."

"I'll come right in," Booth told him, checking his watch to figure out how quickly he could get to his office.

"Bring Dr. Brennan," Cullen instructed. "We're going to need her insight. And I don't want her left alone."

"Yes, sir," Booth replied, his gaze settling on his partner. "We're on our way."

"Do we have a case? I should really wait for Zach to get here before we go."

Booth turned his gaze to his partner, dreading what he had to tell her but knowing that if she had to hear about this walking nightmare coming back, it was best that she heard it from him.

"Yeah," he answered slowly, "we have a case. But we need to talk before we go."

Bones' eyes narrowed as she studied his face. "Booth, what's wrong? You look . . . odd."

Booth laughed involuntarily, a dry, rough sound, at Brennan's typically blunt observation, but sobered quickly. "Bones, before we go, there's something I have to tell you and it's going to be . . . difficult for you to hear."

Brennan quirked an eyebrow. "Booth, you seem to be worried about my reaction. You should know me better than that. Just say it and then let's go."

"It's a Gravedigger case. He's back."

Bones paled a bit but otherwise showed no reaction. Tense moments passed while she pulled herself together, then she stood and faced Booth squarely. "We have to tell Hodgins," she said firmly. "I have to be the one to tell him."

Booth nodded and grasped one of her hands, finding it cool and dry to the touch. "We'll go by his house now," he promised. "I'll let Cullen know we're going to be a little late." He bent his head slightly and forced her eyes to meet his. "He's not going to get anywhere near you, Temperance," he vowed firmly. "I swear."

**AN: My muse is hungry. She needs LOTS of feedback;) Please let me know what you think about this new chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Booth's black SUV stopped under the portico of Hodgins' massive mansion and Booth glanced over at his silent partner. "You OK?" he asked gently. "I know this is going to be difficult for you."

Brennan smiled and shrugged. "I'm just not looking forward to telling Jack he's back," she admitted. "He had it so much worse than I did down there."

Booth snorted disbelievingly. "Bones, you were buried alive. I don't know if it gets any worse than that."

"Yeah," Bones answered, almost whispering. Straightening her shoulders, she opened her door and stepped lightly to the ground. "Let's get this over with."

Moments after ringing the doorbell, the door swung open and the couple was greeted by a grinning Jack Hodgins. "Hey, two of my favorite people!" he said cheerfully. "Come on in." Booth and Brennan followed him as he led the way into a cavernous front hallway, the wood paneled walls gleaming with polish and age. "Angela will be thrilled you're here, Dr. Brennan," Hodgins remarked over his shoulder. "She has this thing she's working on and . . ."

"Actually, Hodgins," Booth interrupted, "this really isn't a social call. We need to talk to you."

"And Angela," Brennan interjected. "We need both of you. Is there someplace we could talk that's private?"

"Sure," Jack answered slowly. "Um, there's a small library down the hall. Third door on the right. I'll just go get Angela."

"I'm right here," the artist called as she descended the stairs. "Whatever it is, it sounds pretty serious." Her hand crept into Hodgins' and gripped tightly. "Let's just get it over with, huh?"

Hodgins led the way to the library and, even in spite of the awful news he was about to break to two people he considered friends, Booth couldn't help but admire the richly bound books going almost from floor to ceiling and the lushly upholstered leather couches. Hodgins had great taste, he had to admit.

Hodgins and Angela sat on one of the sofas, hands still linked, Booth and Brennan sitting on a mirroring couch across from them. "So, what's got you looking so grim?" Hodgins asked, unsuccessfully attempting a jocular tone.

Booth and Brennan exchanged glances and Booth gave his partner an almost imperceptible nod. "Hodgins," she began, her voice uncharacteristically soft, "the FBI have received a ransom demand from the Gravedigger."

Jack's face went ashen and his hand clenched spasmodically around Angela's. "What?" he managed, his voice chocked. "When?"

"We just got the call about fifteen minutes ago," Booth answered. "Bones and I are heading to the FBI as soon as we leave. When we find something out, we'll let you know."

After sitting in silence for what seemed like endless minutes, Hodgins nodded shortly. "I'm going to head to the lab, dig out all the evidence we have on the son of a bitch. Maybe I missed something."

"Jack, you've been over that stuff a hundred times," Angela reminded him. "What on earth could you have missed?"

Jack turned to his fiancée, his eyes haunted by memories he had tried so hard to forget. "I have to do _something_," he told her emphatically. "I can't just sit here waiting."

Angela wound her arms around one of his and pressed gently. "We'll both go."

"I'd rather the two of you stay here until I can arrange for some protection," Booth informed them. At their shocked looks, he explained. "Hodgins, you and Bones are the only two victims who've outsmarted him. He didn't get his money, he didn't kill you. He's got to be pissed about that. So until I can get some agents over here to go with you wherever you go, I'd rather you both remained here, where you've already got some pretty impressive security."

Immediately seeing the logic in Booth's suggestion, Hodgins nodded in agreement. "We'll stay," he conceded. "But get those agents over here fast. I refuse to cower in my house because he's decided to get active again."

The four rose and walked towards the door. As they did, Hodgins motioned for Booth to stay behind and let Angela and Bones leave first.

"What, Hodgins?" Booth asked, almost impatient. "We've got to go."

"I know," Hodgins answered, his voice low and urgent. "But I had to tell you . . ." Here he paused as if looking for the right words. "Dr. Brennan was a lot more affected down there than she let on," he said. "She's never really talked about it, not even with me, but I was there, man," Hodgins' voice was insistent, tight with fear. "She's afraid right now. That bastard put us both through hell. But she's Dr. Brennan," he added ruefully. "Wouldn't tell you what she was feeling if you begged her. But I don't think even Dr. B can compartmentalize this one. Take care of her, OK?"

Booth looked at Hodgins with understanding and a little surprise. "Of course I will," he assured him. "She won't be alone."

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Booth and Brennan had barely stepped through the doors at the FBI building in downtown Washington, D.C. when they were approached by an agent.

"Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan?" he asked briskly, already turning to guide them to the elevator bank.

"That's us," Booth answered, concern evident in his voice. "Who are you?"

"Agent Philips," the man responded, glancing at them over his shoulder. "Deputy Director Cullen sent me to meet you and deliver you to him as soon as you arrived. The situation is quite critical."

"Can you tell us anything?" Bones asked, a thread of urgency in her voice.

"Sorry, Dr. Brennan," Philips responded as the elevator doors slid open. "You'll have to wait until you see Director Cullen. I was just sent to find you."

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"They're here, sir."

Cullen rose from the meeting room table where he had been conferring with several agents and motioned for Booth and Brennan to join them. "Took you long enough, Booth," he said shortly as everyone took their seats.

"We felt we had to notify Dr. Jack Hodgins, sir," Booth explained calmly. "He was taken hostage at the same time as Dr. Brennan and, as such, is a possible target for revenge."

Cullen nodded. "Understandable," he allowed. "But I . . ." Here he paused as though uncertain as to how he should proceed. "We know who the latest kidnapping victim is and . . ." Cullen abruptly rose from the table and began to pace. "There's no easy way to say this, Dr. Brennan," he told her, his voice deeply apologetic. "And I didn't want to tell you over the phone. The Gravedigger claims that his latest victim is your brother, Russ Brennan."

**AN: Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to know what you think of it so far. Please, please, please leave feedback!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Cullen abruptly rose from the table and began to pace. "There's no easy way to say this, Dr. Brennan," he told her, his voice deeply apologetic. "And I didn't want to tell you over the phone. The Gravedigger claims that his latest victim is your brother, Russ Brennan."_

Temperance Brennan would have sworn that the earth tilted on its axis under her feet as she felt the blood drain from her face. Moments passed in complete silence as she tried to absorb what Cullen had just told her. Her brother had been kidnapped by the Gravedigger. No, she insisted to herself, not even aware that she was shaking her head in denial. No, Russ was with Amy and the girls. He was fine. He hadn't been buried alive, dying in the darkness and choking on terror. This wasn't happening.

"Dr. Brennan?"

Bones slowly turned her head towards the Deputy Director, her eyes haunted. "You're wrong," she insisted, her voice surprisingly strong. "Russ is fine. I would have heard from Amy if he had gone missing."

"No, you wouldn't," Cullen informed her gently. "As soon as we got the phone call, I sent agents to bring Amy and her girls here so we could put them in protective custody. They've been ordered to make no phone calls or get in touch with anyone in any way until they arrive in D.C." Cullen glanced at his watch. "They should be here within the hour."

Oh, God, it was real. Brennan's vision became clouded and her breath began to rasp in her throat as her hands clenched spasmodically. "I need air," she insisted almost desperately. "I've got to get out . . ."

Booth grasped her arm and tugged her through the meeting room's back door. "Hold on, Bones," he told her, his voice tight. "You're fine. Just take deep breaths." Moments later they were passing through a door and standing on the roof of the FBI building, the hot D.C. air whirling around them.

Temperance walked over to the chest-high ledge and folded her arms against it, allowing her head to fall forward as she struggled to control her breathing. Booth came up behind her and began to gently massage her shoulders, his heart breaking at her obvious distress. "It's going to be alright, Bones," he soothed. "We're going to find him."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Of course we will." She pushed away from the wall and began to pace, her movements uncharacteristically jerky. "But he'll be dead by the time we get to him. He'll have died alone and afraid, struggling for breath in the dark until he can't keep his eyes open anymore." Her voice was harsh with anger, her eyes hard, though Booth could hear the fear in her voice.

"Temperance, you can't give up hope," Booth insisted, wanting nothing more than to hold her close and comfort her but knowing she wouldn't accept it right now. "We figured out where you and Hodgins were. We got to you in time. We'll put off paying the ransom for as long as we can while we try to figure something out."

"Booth, you found us because Hodgins and I were able to figure out how to get a message to you!" Bones exclaimed harshly. "We were lucky to be in that damn car. We were together and we had the knowledge we needed to help us get out." She bit her lip as she looked down at the crowds milling around so far below. "I'm sorry, Booth," she said quietly, desperation evident in her voice. "I know you're trying to keep my spirits up. I'm just so . . . afraid." The last was said in a broken whisper as she finally gave in to her fear and, weeping softly, covered her face with her hands.

Booth was at her side immediately, his arms gently encircling her and drawing her against his chest. "I know, Bones," he assured her. "It's OK. You deserve a few minutes to let it all out. But then you have to keep it together for Russ. That huge brain of yours can only help if you keep it clear and focused. Right?"

"Right," she agreed, her voice muffled against his shirt front.

Booth felt Bones pull herself together and allowed her to step back. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she tried to smile at her partner. "Thanks," she said softly.

"Anytime," Booth assured her gently. "Ready?"

Taking a deep breath, Brennan nodded. "Yeah," she answered. "Let's go find out what the son of a bitch wants."

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All talking ceased when Booth and Bones re-entered the meeting room and Cullen rose to move in front of them.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan," he began, his voice soft. "I understand how difficult this must be for you. Are you ready to hear the ransom demand?"

"Let's have a seat," Bones said by way of a reply. "The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can start figuring out where he's buried Russ."

Moments later a digitally modified voice filled the room. "I was cheated out of my last game," the voice began. Temperance tried to suppress a shiver as the cold, mechanical continued. "I didn't get my money and the good doctors didn't die. You broke the rules. This upsets me. The ransom has been raised accordingly. I want the $8 million I originally asked for, along with $2 million for my latest guest – Russ Brennan. You have twelve hours to transfer the money to account 468304873 at the Banque Federale in Zurich. Once the money is received, I will send you coordinates to Mr. Brennan's location. If it is not, you'll never see him again. This will be my last communication."

The recording ended and silence descended over the group. Brennan felt herself break out in a cold sweat but managed to remain composed. She could feel everyone's eyes on her and didn't want them to think she would fall apart. She was tougher than that. She had to be.

"I know he's never made this mistake before," she started, her voice strong, "but have you run it through a digital filter to see if there are any background noises that would give a clue as to where he was when he made the call?"

"It's been processed several times, Dr. Brennan," Cullen assured her. "We could lift no background noises from the tape. He's very thorough."

"And very pissed," Booth interjected. "It's personal this time. That's different. That's where he's going to trip up. It's not just business. Losing Bones and Hodgins hit his pride."

"Which is why I've already sent agents to Dr. Hodgins' home," Cullen informed them. "He and Miss Montenegro will have round the clock protection."

"I'm sure that will put their minds at ease, sir," Booth told him. "Thank you."

"I'm arranging the same for you, Dr. Brennan," Cullen said. "And I don't want to hear any argument about it."

Brennan, who had been going to do exactly that, smiled ruefully. "I'll give in, sir," she told him. "It would be foolish to reject protection given the current situation." She glanced briefly at the other agents in the room and then looked back at Cullen. "If we're done here, I'd like to head to the Jeffersonian. Hodgins was going to go over and start on the evidence we already have."

"Fine," Cullen responded promptly. "Agents McNamara and Higgins will be with you today. Simons and Donaldson will take over tonight. Make sure you keep in touch." In an uncharacteristically personal gesture, he placed his hand lightly on Bones' arm. "Don't worry, Dr. Brennan," he told her confidently. "We're going to get your brother back and we'll get the Gravedigger at the same time."

Brennan nodded shortly. "I'm counting on it."

AN: Sorry it has taken so long to update. Thanksgiving was crazy busy! I hope you like the latest chapter. Please leave lots of feedback - it keeps my juices flowing! Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The stale air rasped through his lungs as he fought to keep his panic at bay. _Keep calm_, he kept telling himself. _Save your air. They'll come for you._ His eyes, having quickly adjusted to the oppressive darkness, searched again and again for anything that might help him escape. He might not have his sister's book smarts, but he had grown up the hard way, relying on his instincts and common sense to stay alive. If there was something there that could help him, he'd find it. His fingers traced along the sides of his strange cell again, searching for any sign of structural weakness, anything that would help him escape. But there was nothing. He sighed and closed his eyes, repeating again and again what had become his mantra: _They'll come for you._

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"I am so King of Lab for this," Jack Hodgins crowed. "My God, could this day get any better!"

"Nice to see you've recovered from this morning, Jack," Angela observed sardonically, her eyes apologetic and slightly amused as she watched Brennan and Booth climb the platform steps.

"Did you find something?" Brennan asked, her face alight with hope.

"Oh, yeah, baby," Jack said confidently, immediately realizing what he said. "Sorry, Dr. Brennan, I'm just so psyched about this."

"For God's sake, Hodgins, what is it?" Booth exclaimed, his tone decidedly aggravated. "It's not like we have a lot of time here."

"Right. Sorry. So the FBI sent a copy of the phone call over here to see if we could determine gender, age, nationality, stuff like that. Bad news is, we couldn't." He shook his head in reluctant admiration. "This bastard knows his technology. But," Jack added, smiling smugly, "I did recognize the name of the bank he wants the money transferred to."

"So?" Booth asked. "You recognized the bank. How is that going to help us?"

"I own it."

Stunned silence followed that announcement. "Excuse me?" Angela finally asked. "What do you mean you own it?"

"My family founded the bank over a hundred years ago to . . . um . . . prevent certain members of the government from taking more than their fair share of our revenues. It's a completely legitimate bank," he hastened to assure them. "The majority of the money in it just happens to be mine."

"You own a _tax shelter_?!" Booth exclaimed incredulously. "Jack, you do realize I'm FBI, right? Probably not the brightest think to say in front of me."

"Why? 'Cause you're going to forget about saving Russ to turn me in?" Jack scoffed. "We all know that's not going to happen. And anyway," he grinned smugly. "Try proving it. The Swiss are fanatical about banking privacy."

Booth ran a hand through his hair, reminded himself to count to ten, and refocused. "So you own the bank. How does that help us?"

"Dude, have you not been listening? The Gravedigger's bank account is in there! We've got him!"

Brennan shook her head. "Hodgins, I appreciate how much you want to help but you just said the Swiss are fanatical about the privacy of their banks. They'd never tell us who it was or where the money goes. And even if we did get permission to dig through their client information, it would take too much time to try to find the right bank account." She fought to keep her voice steady. "Russ only has six hours left."

Jack shook his head. "For a lesser mortal, that might be a problem, Dr. B," he announced. "The bank's security is top notch and their firewall is practically impenetrable. No one has been able to hack it and plenty have tried. But I know the system's back door."

"And how do you know that?" Booth asked skeptically. "Even if you do own the bank, I find it hard to believe they'd just give it to you. And anyway, they usually have multiple security codes that are held by multiple people who have no knowledge of anyone else's code."

"That's all true," Hodgins admitted. "But have you seriously forgotten my whole conspiracy theory thing? I make it my business to know every way Big Brother could possible screw me over. This just happened to be one of them."

"So how does this help us?" Angela asked, hoping to get the conversation back on track.

"Easy," Hodgins answered. "I can tap into the bank's mainframe, put a tracer on the account and find out where the money is moving. A friend of mine developed the software about six months ago. He thought the CIA was siphoning money out of his Caymen Island account, which is ridiculous since he only has eighty-five dollars in . . ." Booth cleared his throat sharply, staring daggers at the bug man, and Hodgins broke off abruptly. "Anyway, odds are he'll be using an alias, but that's still more than we have now. And if we can follow the money, my bet is that it leads straight to him."

"So your idea is that we pay the money, get Russ back, and just follow the cash and pick this guy up?" Booth shook his head. "It's too easy. There has to be a catch."

Hodgins hesitated before slowly nodding his head. "There is the possibility that the trace would show up, that the Gravedigger would know we're on to him. If that happens, he could just cut off Russ's air supply or give us the wrong coordinates and that would be it. No Russ, no Gravedigger. Nothing."

Angela and Booth exchanged worried glances. "Hodgins, I think we'd better find another way," Angela said firmly. "We can't risk Russ's life on anything less than a sure thing. From what you said, the timing of the trace would have to be perfect. I don't think we can ask Bren to take that kind of chance with her brother's life."

"But if we don't do it, he could just come back again and take one of us," Brennan said quietly. "Or any of the people we care about." She turned troubled eyes to Booth. "Like Parker. I don't think any of us could live with that."

Booth felt the blood drain from his face as he realized the truth of what she was saying. But she had to be sure. "This has to be a decision you make for yourself, Bones," he told her, his eyes intense. "It can't be made because you're thinking of all of us. This is your brother. It's up to you."

Brennan raised damp eyes to meet his and she smile faintly. "That's very rational of you, Booth," she murmured. "Very head over heart." She held up her hand when he would have spoken. "There is no other choice." Bones looked over at Hodgins and straightened her shoulders. "Go ahead and do it, Jack," she said quietly. "It should take me a couple of hours to get that much money together but . . ." She stopped when she noticed Jack shaking his head. "What?"

"I'll take care of the money end of it, Dr. Brennan," he said firmly. When she would have argued he quickly cut her off. "It will be faster if I do it. I have more than that at the Banque Federale right now. And don't worry," Jack added cheerfully. "In a few hours we'll have Russ _and_ the money back. So no arguments, alright?"

Brennan had to take a moment to collect herself before she could answer him. "Alright, Jack," she replied, her voice a bit shaky. "And thank you."

"What do you need from me, Jack?" Booth asked, already flipping his phone open.

"Seeing as how all of this isn't entirely legal, G-man, I think we should handle this in house," Jack suggested. "It would be best if we called the FBI in officially once we know where the guy is. Then the cavalry can ride to the rescue."

**AN: I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update and I hope people are still interested in this story. If you want me to keep going, please leave feedback. I promise I'll be much better about updating! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The atmosphere in the lab was tense as Hodgins, Angela, Booth and Brennan crowded around the computer bank on the platform. Two screens showed similar images – one of the Gravedigger's bank account in Zurich while one was of Jack's account at the same bank. The third screen, however, was running seemingly endless rows of numbered encryption. When they suddenly stopped, quickly replaced by a simple prompt, Hodgins rubbed his sweaty palms together and cleared his throat.

"OK, I've got the software ready," he announced. "All we have to do is make sure that the money transfer and the trace happen at the exact same time so that nothing pops up on his screen to indicate an additional event occurred." Turning to his friends, he looked at them one by one. "I have to take care of the trace. Dr. Brennan, would you go to that keyboard over there and, exactly when I tell you, initiate the money transfer?"

Brennan's jaw clenched, the fear radiating from her in waves, but she nodded and strode determinedly to the keyboard. As her hands hovered over the keys, Jack placed a hand on her arm. "_Exactly_ when I say," he emphasized, his eyes intent on hers. He squeezed her arm gently and tried to smile reassuringly. "It's going to work," he promised. "We'll get him back."

Jack turned his attention back to his screen and quickly typed in the account number and the authorization for the trace. Finger hovering over the return key, he quickly glanced at Brennan. "Ready?" At her nod, he began to count backwards. "Three, two, one, _now_!"

They simultaneously struck the keys and the programs began to run. The money immediately transferred and, just as quickly, it disappeared from the Zurich account.  
"It's gone!" Angela exclaimed, panic in her voice. "Oh, God, where did it go? Did the trace work?"

Jack was frantically attempting to read the information popping up on the tracer screen, his eyes narrowed with concentration. "Yeah, it worked," he replied briskly. "But this son of a bitch is really moving the money around. Let's hope he doesn't split it up into multiple accounts. We'll never find him then."

Tense moments passed as the ten million dollars bounced from account to account around the world – from Zurich to the Caymans to Andorra, then to Lichtenstein and Belize. They lost count of how many places the money went as it hop scotched around the globe. Finally, after endlessly tense minutes, the money stopped in a bank in Maryland. Jack frantically wrote down the information and looked at the small group hovering behind him. "We've got it," he told them, his voice still solemn. "Now we just have to wait and see if he's actually there or if he'll just let it sit. And if he knows about the trace." He looked at Booth, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

"If the Gravedigger stays true to form, we should know where Russ is within the next few minutes," Both replied, gently placing his hand at the small of Brennan's back in a gesture of comfort. "It'll be OK, Bones," he whispered gently. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, and managed a small grateful smile. "I hope so," she whispered back, her attention returning to the screen. "God, I hope so."

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The house was quite unremarkable. It was a plain, rather run down ranch on what was still a respectable street in one of the many suburbs of Baltimore. The neighbors spoke among themselves from time to time about the strange man who lived there. He came and went at odd hours, he never received any mail, never had any visitors. It was all very odd but, they said, it was his own business. Far be it from them to meddle. He seemed harmless enough and as long as he didn't bring any trouble to them and their families, they would leave well enough alone. After all, it takes all kinds.

He was very aware of the neighbors' attention. He saw the covert stares as he drove down the street, the early and obvious attempts to get to know him when he first moved in. He had simply ignored the looks and the overtures of neighborly friendships. He didn't need them. The house, on the other hand, was perfect. It was quiet, unobtrusive, and a perfect base where he could relax and enjoy the fruits of his labor, both the money and the sheer pleasure he received from inflicting misery on others. He checked his watch. _Tick tock, you bitch_, he said to himself. _Little brother is getting mighty short of air right about now_. He chuckled to himself at the thought but the sound abruptly broke off when his computer chimed. Reaching over to raise the lid of his laptop, he maximized the window showing his bank account and saw a new deposit had been made. Quite a sizeable deposit.

_And there it was_, he thought triumphantly, his fists clenched in victory as he peered at his computer screen. All ten million. This time, _he_ won. They were the ones left in the dark, they were the ones whose plans were ruined. He had outsmarted them all! Picking up his encrypted cell phone, he texted the coordinates to FBI headquarters. A deal was a deal. He had his money, they got their loved one back. But they would be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives. That thought gave him almost as much pleasure as the ten million dollars. Almost.

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"It's been too long," Brennan fretted, her hands twisting into knots as she paced. "He got the money almost half an hour ago! He found out. He must have!"

Angela stepped in front of her friend and forced her to stop. "Sweetie, you don't know what's going on. You have to be calm. Cullen will call us as soon as he knows anything." Her voice was soothing and some of the panic left Brennan's eyes.

"I can't loose him, Ange," she whispered, her eyes pleading for something Angela couldn't give her. "He has to be alright."

Booth's cell phone shrilled through the lab. He had it open before the second ring sounded. "Booth."

Bones couldn't breathe. She blindly reached out her hand and found it clasped tightly in Angela's. The artist squeezed reassuringly.

"Yes, sir, Dr. Brennan is right here," Booth said into the phone, his eyes meeting his partner's. "Yes, I'll let her know. Thank you, sir."

Booth flipped his phone shut and grinned. "They've got Russ," he announced triumphantly. "The Gravedigger sent them the coordinates as soon as the money arrived. He had buried Russ in an old septic tank about sixty miles outside of DC on an abandoned farm. The recovery team was on sight within twenty minutes. Cullen must have sent them in a chopper. Anyway, he's dirty and sore and mad as hell, but he's alright."

Bones' hands came up to cover her face as she wept quietly. Booth immediately went to her and wrapped his arms around her shuddering shoulders. "It's OK, Bones" he murmured into her hair, his lips gently caressing the tousled strands. "It's all over now."

Brennan shook her head as she pulled away from Booth, her hands swiping at the tears that coursed down her cheeks. "No, it's not," she told him firmly. "Not until the Gravedigger is in custody. You're sure Cullen has Russ?" Her voice was thick with worry. "There's no chance for the Gravedigger to get him back?"

Booth placed steadying hands on her shoulders. "Russ is safe, Temperance," he told her firmly. "Cullen is having him flown to DC. Our medics checked him out onsite. Other than the taser burns, he's fine. He'll be at the FBI in a matter of minutes."

"Then you have to call Cullen and tell him where the Gravedigger is," Bones insisted. "I want to know that he's in custody, that he can't get at us ever again."

"Taken care of, Dr. B."

Brennan turned to see Jack leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, and a grin spreading across his face. "As soon as I heard about Russ, I sent the information to Cullen's PDA. He acknowledged receipt and has already gotten in touch with the office in Baltimore." His grin grew even wider. "The guy is toast."

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_Who should go next?_ he asked himself. There was the trust fund baby in New York, the thoroughbred racer down in Kentucky, the oilman's wife in Oklahoma. _Or, _he mused to himself, _there was the happy little group at the Jeffersonian_. He seemed to recall Booth had a son. Oh, the possibilities. He was so caught up in the planning, in imagining the torment he would cause, that he barely noticed the whirring noise of a chopper high overhead.

Suddenly his house lights went out and the chopper seemed to be right on top of him. "Shit!" he gritted through clenched teeth as he groped for his gun. Before he could even raise the weapon, gas bombs exploded through his windows and he was overcome by the choking smoke. His lungs burned and his eyes ran with endless tears as he writhed in agony. Scant moments later his front and back doors burst inwards, almost flying off their hinges, as men in black riot gear, guns poised and ready, stormed into the house. Before he could even fully comprehend what was happening, his wrists had been cuffed and he was being dragged unceremoniously through what was left of his front doorway and past his stunned neighbors. Through his watering eyes he could see a caravan of black SUVs, agents pouring out of them to surround his house. He could hear a chopper overhead and one was landing right in the middle of the street. The agents who had apprehended him tightened their grip on his arms and roughly pulled him towards the landing helicopter.

Cullen watched the Gravedigger approach his chopper and smiled thinly. Within seconds the man himself was standing right in front of him. Cullen leaned down and cleared his throat. The Gravedigger raised his head and looked with unrestrained hatred at the FBI agent in front of him. Cullen looked him right in the eye and smiled.

"Gotcha."

**AN: Thank you to those readers who have taken the time to read my story and an even bigger thanks goes to those of you who left reviews. I love hearing what you think of my work! I'm so glad there is still interest in the story. I'll definitely keep going. Please, please, please leave some feedback for me. It keeps me going:) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Brennan charged from the elevator, Booth close at her heels. "You're sure he's here?" She tossed the question over her shoulder as she strode down the corridor.

"Bones, I promise Russ is here," Booth repeated patiently. "He's been brought to our medical quarters for a thorough examination but by all accounts he's fine." Booth reached out and gently pulled Brennan to a halt. Before she could pull free and continue down the hall, Booth nodded towards a closed door. "He's in there."

Temperance's breath seemed to catch in her throat as she stood before the door, her hand hovering above the doorknob. She glanced at Booth and smiled. "Thank you, Seeley," she said quietly, her voice thick with sincerity.

Booth watched her walk through the door and smiled softly as it closed behind her. "Any time, Bones."

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Bones stood in front of the closed door, her eyes searching desperately through the crowd of medical personnel for her brother. Deciding not to wait until she was noticed, she began shouldering her way through the group of doctors and nurses that surrounded the bed. All conversation halted when she reached her brother's side.

Moisture pooled in Bones' eyes and she dashed it away impatiently. She never cried like this. Not once in all the years since her parents left had she allowed herself the freedom to cry so freely. And now it was ticking her off. But Russ soon banished any self-disgust she might have felt. Temperance bit her lip as she looked at him. Her brother's clothes were filthy and the smell that still clung to them testified as to his whereabouts for the last eight hours. His eyes were closed but she could clearly see the dark circles around them and the taser gun marks stood out in angry contrast to his pale skin. She reached out almost unconsciously to stroke the hair back from his forehead and make sure he was really there. At her touch his eyes fluttered and opened. Russ looked up at her and smiled.

"Marco."

Temperance's laugh sounded perilously close to a sob as she leaned down and gently embraced her brother, burying her face in his shoulder. "Polo," she choked out, and finally gave in to her tears as she felt her brother wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

Endless moments passed as the siblings just held each other, taking strength from being together. When they finally separated, the doctors and nurses had left and a curtain had been pulled around their cubicle to give them some privacy. Temperance sat gingerly on the edge of her brother's bed and took his hand.

"Are you really alright?" she asked worriedly, her eyes running over him with clinical intensity.

"Tempe, I promise, I'm fine," Russ assured her. "Other than these burn marks and an almost compulsive need to shower for the next week, I'm great." He laughed shortly. "And I don't think I'll be sleeping in the dark any time soon."

Bones squeezed his hand. " I know," she told him. "But it will get better. You have Amy and the girls. You'll be alright."

"Oh, God, Amy!" Russ exclaimed, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I've got to get home. She must be worried sick."

His sister placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Amy and the girls are here," she told him quickly. "Director Cullen had them flown to DC and put in a safe house. They're fine. And you'll see them as soon as you've been cleared to leave." When she saw he wanted to argue, she interrupted firmly. "Please, Russ," she said. "Do this for Amy. You know she would want you to make sure you're one hundred percent before you go to her.."

Russ smiled and shook his head ruefully. "Never could argue with my baby sister," he admitted lightly. "Alright, Tempe, we'll do it your way." He glanced over her shoulder. "Where's Dad? I thought he'd be here."

Temperance shrugged, a look of concern flashing across her face. "We haven't been able to reach him," she told him. "But don't worry. You know how Dad is. Gone for weeks at a time without a word and then popping back into town with no warning. And he usually brings gifts." She chuckled, her eyes losing their haunted look. "He still thinks we're kids."

"Yeah," Russ agreed fondly. "Let me know if you hear from him, alright? I really want to see him."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but I wanted to bring you both some news."

Bones turned to find Booth standing just inside the curtain. "Russ, it's great to see you," he said sincerely.

"Seeley, I am absolutely thrilled to see you," Russ told him, laughter in his voice. Suddenly serious again, he looked the Agent in the eye. "And thank you for everything you did to get me back. I just hope you can catch that son of a bitch before he takes someone else."

"Actually, Russ, he's been taken into custody," Bones told him quickly. "We were able to trace the money we sent for your ransom and the FBI picked him up just a short while ago. You're safe."

Russ started at her for a moment, seemingly unable to comprehend what she had just said. Then his face crumpled and he bowed his head. "Thank God," he whispered brokenly. "Thank God."

Temperance leaned down to embrace her brother, silently sending her own thanks to a deity she wasn't at all sure was there.

"That's actually why I'm here," Booth informed them. "He's just been put in holding."

Brennan snapped upright, her eyes flashing with fury. "He's in this building?" she asked sharply. "I want to see him."

Booth was shaking his head before she'd even finished the sentence. "I don't think so, Bones," he told her firmly. "You'll get there, see his face, and go all kung fu scientist on him. Next thing you know, _you're_ in the holding room next door to him."

Brennan clamped down on her temper and took a deep breath. "I promise I won't touch him," she swore. "I won't even ask to go into the room. Just in the observation room. I just want to see him, to hear what he has to say." When it looked like he was going to refuse, she went up to him and placed a gentle hand on his chest. "Please."

If Russ hadn't been so upset at the thought of his kidnapper being so close, he would have laughed. He could almost see the FBI agent melt.

Booth released a gusty sigh. "Alright," he said, his voice stern. "But Temperance, you have to promise that you'll just stay in the observation room. No trying to wheedle your way in to see him face to face, no pounding on the glass, nothing. Can you do that?"

"Please, Booth, I'm not a child," Bones stated in an affronted tone. When Booth just continued to stare at her, she sighed heavily. "Fine," she snapped. "I promise. Now can we go?"

"Now we can go," Booth said soothingly, his eyes alight with amusement. Looking over at Russ, Booth quickly became serious. "We'll be back, Russ," he assured him. "And as soon the docs clear you, we'll get you to Amy."

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that," Russ replied solemnly. He turned his attention to his sister and smiled briefly. "Behave yourself, sis," he told her and laughed when she rolled her eyes.

Russ kept his smile in place until his sister and her partner had left the exam room. Finally alone, he allowed himself the luxury of his tears.

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Booth paused in front of the door to the observation room and looked intently at his partner. "Be ready for this, Temperance," he told her solemnly. "Seeing him in there isn't going to be like seeing all the other criminals you've helped arrest. This one is personal."

Temperance's eyes softened as she looked back at her partner. "I know, Seeley," she said quietly. "I'll be fine."

Booth nodded and opened the door, following her inside. Sweets was already there and, much to his annoyance, Booth found himself grateful for the kid's presence.

"Dr. Brennan, how are you doing?" Sweets asked solicitously. "Have you seen your brother?"

Bones answered him, though her eyes were glued to the figure chained to his chair in the next room, separated from her by only a few layers of bulletproof glass. "I'm fine," she murmured. "We're both fine." Her eyes briefly touched on Booth before swinging back to the Gravedigger. "Who is he?"

Booth shrugged, though the action was unseen by his partner. "We don't know," he admitted. "We've taken his prints but so far we've come up empty. And he's not volunteering any information. But we'll figure it out," he assured her. "The whole Bureau is taking this one personally. We're not going to stop until we have every question answered."

The door to the observation room swung open and Cullen walked in. Brennan immediately approached him, hand outstretched. "Thank you, Director Cullen," she said, her voice throbbing with sincerity. "Thank you for finding my brother. And the Gravedigger."

Cullen smiled down at the forensic anthropologist, her hand clasped in both of his. "Dr. Brennan, it was absolutely my pleasure," he told her. "I will remember for the rest of my life the look on that bastard's face as he was taken into custody. It was immensely satisfying to be a part of it."

"How did you find his house?" Brennan asked. "I know you were sent the bank information but I haven't heard how you actually found him."

Cullen shook his head and chuckled grimly. "While we know the name he provided at the bank was an alias, the arrogant bastard didn't even bother putting down a fake address for his account. There was absolutely no attempt to conceal where he lived. And he was so confident in his ability to fool us he hadn't taken any precautious around the house. He did have a gun," the director admitted, "but that was pretty much the extent of it. We're trying to find the taser he's used in the past and any other evidence that will help build the case against him. It's only a matter of time."

"I know you're there." The voice whispered through the speakers and everyone in the observation room stiffened at the sound.

"I know you're there . . . Temperance." The Gravedigger turned his head and flashed an evil smile at the reflective glass. "You're wondering who I am. Why I took you and your brother. And you're feeling pretty smug right now. The great Temperance Brennan saved the day, along with her faithful lapdog of an agent and her fawning minions."

Temperance felt her breath catch in her throat and the pure hatred radiating from his voice, at the loathing in his eyes. Booth came up behind her and put a supporting hand on her arm even as he wished for just ten seconds alone with the son of a bitch.

"Enjoy the feeling, Temperance," the Gravedigger continued. "Because this isn't over. You'll never get rid of me now. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for death and . . ." His tirade was cut short mid-sentence as agents burst into the room and dragged him away.

"He's just letting off some steam, Dr. Brennan," Cullen said reassuringly. "He might not understand it yet, but this is over."

But Bones hadn't been able to take her eyes from the window. She kept hearing his voice in her head, the threats ringing in her ears over and over. She had seen evil before. She knew she had seen it just a moment ago in that holding room. She shook her head slowly. "No, Director Cullen," she said quietly. "I don't think it is."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Brennan rested her head against the cool glass of the SUV's front window and closed her eyes as she waited for Booth to take his place next to her in the driver's seat. Russ had been declared healthy. Slightly dehydrated and exhausted, but fine overall. He was already on his way to the safe house where Amy and their daughters waited impatiently. Cullen had offered them a few days in the secure location, time to get their bearings back and to get used to the idea of being safe again. Russ had immediately and gratefully accepted. Brennan had to agree that it was the best thing. They all needed time to regroup.

"You okay, Bones?"

Bones smiled at the concern she heard in his voice and answered without changing her position. "Fine, Booth," she replied. "I promise."

"Do you mind if we swing by my place before I take you home?" Booth checked over his shoulder as he merged with traffic and pulled onto 9th Street.

"No, that's fine," Brennan replied absently. "I'm not in any rush."

Minutes later Brennan sat in the running car as Booth dashed into his apartment building. It had been one hell of a day, she thought to herself. She replayed the events of the day over and over in her mind. When she finally allowed herself to think about what had happened in the interrogation room, what the Gravedigger had said and the evil that seemed to emanate from him, she couldn't suppress a shiver. She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn't see Booth approach the car and she jumped when he opened the door.

"Hey, it's just me," Booth hastened to assure her. "It's okay, Bones."

"Yeah," she replied, taking a deep breath. "I know." She shook her head in disgust. "Sorry. I'm never this jumpy."

"Bones, if anyone has good reason to be a little skittish, it's you." Booth buckled himself in and pulled back into traffic. "Don't worry. Once we get you home, you'll feel a lot better."

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Brennan unlocked her door, reached into her apartment to turn on the living room light and turned to face Booth with a weary smile. "Thanks, Booth," she said, learning against the door jamb. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep, you will," he replied, moving past her to enter the apartment.

"Booth, what are you doing?" Brennan asked, completely confused.

"I'm staying the night," he replied calmly as he lay down on the couch, adjusting the pillows behind his head.

"Booth," she sighed, shutting the door and leaning against it. "I promise I'm okay. The Gravedigger is custody, Russ is home. You don't need to babysit me."

"Hey, what makes you think this is about you?" Booth asked in an affronted tone. "Jeez, Bones, try thinking of me once in a while. How do you know I'm not staying here because _I'm_ afraid? It's about time you did some protecting."

Bones laughed reluctantly at the absurdity of his words and decided to give in without a fight. Just this once, anyway. It would make him feel better. And it would make her feel much safer, she admitted to herself. "Only because it will make you feel better," she told him, her voice tinged with amusement. She walked over the couch and held out her hand, which was quickly engulfed in Booth's. "Thanks, Seeley," she murmured.

He smiled up at her gently and squeezed her hand. "Anytime, Temperance."

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_She was walking down a long hallway, the darkness broken only by weak light emanating from a few wall sconces. The carpet was thick and rich under her bare feet. She wasn't afraid, she told herself. Everything had been taken care of. It wasn't fear that made her tremble. A draft. That's all it was. Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she whirled to face the yawning darkness behind her. _

_Oh, God, it was coming. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel the evil creeping towards her, stalking her like prey. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her fear like a tangible thing gnawing at her insides. She curled deeper and deeper into a ball, trying to make herself invisible, and cowered in the darkest corner of the room. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything was alright now. Wasn't it? Isn't that what he promised? Her eyes squeezed shut, she started rocking back and forth and whispering over and over, "He promised, he promised, he promised."_

_Suddenly she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot open wide and fixed on the door to her fragile sanctuary. It was here. Her lips moved in a wordless prayer as she pressed herself even closer to the wall behind her. "He promised," she whispered desperately just as the door flew open and suffocating darkness flooded the room. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still. _

Booth shot up off the couch, his eyes frantically searching the corners of the darkened room for his partner. Sweat poured down his face and chest and his breath rasped in his throat. His strength seemed to desert him all at once and his knees buckled. He collapsed back onto the couch and rubbed his hands over his face. God, it was that same dream, the one that had woken him up yesterday morning. No, he said to himself, not the same. There had been more detail this time. He had seen the hallway, felt the carpet. It had been much more vivid tonight.

"Booth."

Seeley whipped around on the couch, his body tense with surprise, and saw his partner standing in the shadows of the hall between the bedrooms and living room. "Hey," he said, in what he thought was a reasonably normal voice. "Couldn't sleep?"

Bones hesitated slightly before she joined him on the couch. "I couldn't seem to shut my brain off," she admitted. "But I wasn't going to disturb you. Then I heard . . ." she broke off, not wanting to embarrass Booth by admitting she had heard him in the grips of his nightmare.

Booth sighed and picked up where she left off. "Then you heard me making a fool of myself over a dream." He laughed at her crestfallen expression. "It's okay, Bones," he assured her gently. "It was just a dream. I'm fine now." He shifted on the couch to face her fully and nudged her leg with his knee. "Why couldn't you turn your brain off?"

"I kept thinking about what the Gravedigger said in the holding room," she admitted, her voice tinged with concern. "About it not being over."

Seeley gently touched his fingers under her chin and raised her eyes to his. "Temperance, the man is in FBI custody, under lock and key with twenty-four hour surveillance. The man is in handcuffs and leg irons around the clock. He's not going to get anywhere near you. Everything is alright now." Booth felt a brief thrill of apprehension shoot through him at his own words but he quickly brushed it aside as residue from his nightmare. He focused on his partner and the fear that was slowly leaving her eyes.

"You're right," Bones acknowledged quietly. "Logically, I know that. It's just going to take me a little while to get over it, you know."

"Believe me, Bones," he said emphatically. "If anyone understands that, I do. Think you'll be able to get to sleep now?"

Before she could answer, Booth's phone rang. Raising an eyebrow at the lateness of the call, he picked it up. "Booth."

Temperance watched with mounting concern as the color drained from her partner's face. "Yes, sir," he said hoarsely. "I'm with her right now. I'll take care of it."

"Booth, what is it?" Bones asked urgently, unsettled by the almost pole axed look on his face.

"He got away," Booth replied in a stunned voice. He rose from the couch and began to pace. "I can't believe this!" he exclaimed, his voice gaining volume with every word. "That piece of shit actually escaped FBI custody! How in the hell did this happen?"

When Bones didn't answer Booth looked over at her and immediately regretted his outburst. Her face was chalky white and her eyes seemed to take up half of her face. "He's out?" she rasped.

Booth rushed over and knelt in front of her, tightly clasping her icy hands in his. "Temperance, we're on top of this," he swore. "Agents are already on it and they're confident they'll have him in custody again very soon." He took a deep breath before he continued. She was going to hate the next part. "Until then Cullen wants to put you in protective custody. He's sending a car over now to take you to a safe house."

"A safe house?" Brennan repeated. "With Russ?"

"No, Cullen doesn't want to put the two of you together. It's just not a good idea. You'll be going to one of our other safe houses." Temperance was shaking her head before Booth had even finished.

"No. If I can't be with Russ, I won't do it. And if I knew where Russ was, I'd get him the hell out of there as quickly as possible. The FBI couldn't keep the Gravedigger IN. Why should we believe they could keep him OUT?"

"Bones, you can't stay here," Booth insisted. "You need to be somewhere secure. This apartment building is way too vulnerable."

"Fine," Temperance replied. "I'll go to Jack's. He has state of the art security and an army of personal security on the property. It's probably the safest spot in DC outside of the White House."

"I don't know, Bones," Booth said skeptically. "Cullen wants to keep you spread out and I tend to . . ."

"Booth, I'm telling you I'm going to Jack's. Quite frankly what Cullen wants at this point is immaterial. You can come with me or not. I'm going to pack a few things. I'll be ready to go in a minute." With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the living room, leaving Booth fuming and frustrated behind her.

He scrubbed a hand wearily over his face then picked up his phone to call Jack and then Cullen. He was going to have to do some slick talking to get Cullen to go along with this because, whatever Bones felt about the Deputy Director, what he thought did matter.

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The man watched lights come on in the apartment on the top floor and smiled smugly. They had heard, he thought to himself. They were starting to panic. Perfect. They'd get sloppy and give him the opportunity he needed. Soon, that bitch Temperance Brennan would know the meaning of fear, of pain. By the time he was done with her and the people she loved, she would be begging for death. He chuckled, the sound coldly evil in the darkness of the alley. Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

**AN: One more chapter today:) Thank you so, so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave me reviews. You have all been amazing. Please keep those reviews coming! They keep my muse happy and very, very productive:)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The SUV sped down the winding gravel driveway at an almost unsafe speed, its tires crunching sharply over the small white rocks. Booth kept his eyes moving constantly, sweeping from side to side, searching for any shadow that might give away his enemy's position. Temperance sat silently beside him, her overnight bag clutched tightly in her arms as though it was a lifeline. He could sense the tension radiating from her and his stomach clenched at her fear. He silently cursed himself, Cullen, the FBI, and especially that son of a bitch Gravedigger. Seeley's hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white in the soft moonlight. God, he prayed desperately, this wasn't supposed to happen. Please help me keep her safe.

Completely unaware of his inner turmoil, Bones hunched deeper into her seat as the trees along the seemingly never-ending driveway blotted out the moon for a brief moment, her uncharacteristic fear warring with self-disgust at her apparent weakness. _I've lived through danger before_, she reminder herself sharply. _And I have always managed to take care of myself_. But this wasn't just about her, that insidious little voice of doubt whispered in her hear. Her brother was involved. And his wife and daughters. And her friends, those people who had come to be her family, her anchor in a world that often seemed so empty and uncaring. Brennan closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought, but all she saw was his face leering at her, his lips twisted in an unholy grin of triumph. For the first time in her adult life, Temperance Brennan began to wish she knew how to pray to a God she was starting to hope existed.

The car began to slow as the driveway broadened and Hodgins' massive home came into view. Guards, armed with what looked to be military-grade automatic weapons, materialized from the surrounding trees and emerged from doorways to inspect the intruder. Booth felt the knot in his stomach unclench a little at the sight of them. He rolled down his window and held up his identification. The guard who took it examined it carefully and then waved them through. Booth parked the SUV and the two of them sat in silence for endless moments.

"I'm so sorry, Bones, " Booth said softly, not daring to look at her. "We had him. You and Russ were safe. And now you're being put under lock and key. That bastard is free as a bird and I don't know when we'll find him again. I feel like I've failed you."

Temperance turned to look at him, her eyes softening when she saw the torment on his face. She laid her hand gently over one of his, still tightly gripping the steering wheel. "It's not your fault, Seeley," she told him firmly, her voice quiet. "You've done everything you could to keep me safe." Booth still stared woodenly through the windshield, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth. "Booth, listen to me," she insisted, her voice gaining strength. "I would _never_ question your ability to protect me. You always make me feel completely safe. That hasn't changed and it never will."

Booth looked at her then and the pain in his eyes brought tears to hers. "We'll be alright," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as her fingers twining with his. "We'll just keep taking care of each other and everything will be fine."

Booth nodded tightly and turned his gaze to their clasped hands. He gently raised them and pressed a kiss on her fingers. "Thanks, Bones," he managed. "I really needed to hear that."

The moment was broken by a sharp rap on the driver's side window. Booth turned and found a security guard motioning for him to open the door.

"Sorry, Agent Booth," he said, his voice briskly efficient. "We need to get you and the Doctor into the house. Too much exposure out here."

Booth nodded his agreement and turned to his partner. "Ready?"

Brennan nodded, her smile deceptively confident. "Ready."

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Booth and Brennan were escorted into the front foyer of Hodgins' home by yet another security guard. As soon as they stepped through the door, Angela flew at Brennan and wrapped her arms tight around her friend.

"Oh, God, Bren," she said brokenly. "Just when we thought it was all over." She leaned back to look at Brennan's face, her eyes anxious and afraid. "Are you alright? Is Russ OK? Have you heard from him?"

"Angela, one question at a time, honey." Hodgins materialized at the artist's side and slipped a supportive arm around her waist. He took one look at his friends' faces and gestured towards one of the open doorways. "Come on, you two," he said as he led them down the hall. "You both look as if you could use a drink."

Booth dropped Brennan's bag on the hall floor and placed his hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her towards Hodgins' sitting room. "A drink sounds great," he admitted wearily.

Once he had his guests comfortably seated on one of his sinfully overstuffed sofas, Hodgins quickly lit the logs in the fireplace and Angela poured them both a stiff measure of brandy.

"So what have you heard from Russ?" Hodgins asked as he sat on the arm of Angela's chair. "Is he alright?"

Brennan shook her head as she stared into her brandy snifter. "I haven't been able to get in touch with him," she said quietly. At Angela's exclamation of concern, she hastened to reassure her. "Booth said that's not unusual. The cell phone reception is probably spotty. We've sent word to Cullen that we need an update on Russ, Amy and the kids as soon as possible." Bones rubbed a weary hand over her eyes. "I won't be able to rest until I know they're okay."

The silence that followed Brennan's statement was shattered by the ringing of her cell phone. Eyes alight with hope, she fumbled in her bag to find her phone and answered as soon as it was free. "Hello?" she said, almost breathlessly.

"Dr. Brennan."

The blood drained from Bones' face as she recognized the voice he no longer bothered to disguise. Booth leaned forward, the concern on his face changing to rage when she mouthed, "Gravedigger." Booth immediately whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and began texting Cullen, telling him to try to trace the call.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice betraying her tension.

"No, no, Dr. Brennan," he chided almost playfully. "This is about what _you _want. And your partner, of course. I'm assuming he's there. Put me on speakerphone."

Brennan quickly lowered the phone and pressed a button. "Go ahead."

"Good evening, Agent Booth," the Gravedigger said silkily. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"It'll be even better when I haul your ass back into custody," Booth said savagely, his hands clenched into fists.

"You're a little slow on the uptake, aren't you, Seeley?" the Gravedigger asked, his voice insultingly amused. "The FBI can't hold me. No one can."

"I'll find out who your man is on the inside," Booth swore. "And when I do, there won't be anyone to get you out of trouble. You'll be in for good."

"As much as I'd love to continue the debate, we haven't touched on the purpose of my call," the Gravedigger interjected smoothly. "I'm sure you'll both be interested. It's a . . . family matter."

There was silence in the sitting room for a long moment as the four friends started at each other, aghast at what he could have meant.

"What do you mean 'a family matter'?" Booth asked, his voice heavy with dread. "What have you done now?"

"Oh, it's not so much what I've _done_," the voice corrected. "It's more about what I'm _going_ to do."

Brennan licked her lips and took a firm hold of herself. _You can fall apart later_, she told herself. _Keep it together_. "How much money do you want this time?"

"Dr. Brennan, you make me sound so mercenary," the Gravedigger protested, his voice wounded. "It isn't about money this time," he told them. "This is about much more than that. It's about my reputation. What would people say if I ended my career with a defeat? No," he continued without waiting for the answer he knew wouldn't come. "What you should be worrying about is who I'll be going for – Russ . . . or Parker."

The line went dead.

Booth leapt to his feet and frantically dialed Cullen's number on his cell phone. "Did you get it?" he barked. "What do you mean it couldn't be tracked?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Look, I need men sent over to Rebecca's house. The son of a bitch threatened Parker. And beef up security around Russ Brennan. He was mentioned, too. I'm going to leave Dr. Brennan here with Dr. Hodgins and Angela while I go check on Parker." He barely waited for Cullen to reply before he shut his phone and turned to Brennan, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Don't leave the house," he ordered, his voice offering no opportunity for opposition. "I'll call as soon as I know anything." Booth turned his gaze to Hodgins and Angela, their faces white and tense with worry. "It'll be fine. Just sit tight." He looked back at Bones and squeezed her shoulders. "It'll be alright, Bones."

Before Brennan could say anything, Booth was out the front door and jumping in the car. Seconds later the tires spat gravel as he gunned the SUV down the driveway.

"Oh, God," Brennan breathed. "If You're there, please keep him safe. Keep all of us safe."

AN: You know what to do! Just click on that little blue button and make my muse happy:)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Angela's worried gaze rested on Brennan as she stared sightlessly into the fire. "How are you holding up, Sweetie?" she asked gently.

Bones shrugged, still gazing intently at the dancing flames in the fireplace. "I'm not sure how to handle this one," she admitted, her voice low. "I don't know what's happening with Russ and his family. Booth is probably going to wrap his car around a light pole, he's so frantic to get to Parker. And the Gravedigger has basically turned your beautiful home into a prison. We can't even step outside the front door or open a window to get a breath of fresh air." Brennan sighed gently. "If it was just me, I would be fine," she said quietly. "I know how to take care of myself. And if I were at the lab and could go over evidence, I'd fell like I was helping to catch him." Her frustration finally surfaced and she shoved herself up from the chair and began to pace. "I'm just sitting here!" she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair. "I don't know what's going on and I can't do anything about it." Brennan turned to face Angela, her face a mask of frustration. "I don't know how long I can stand not knowing, not doing something."

Angela went to Brennan's side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I know this is driving you nuts," she said soothingly. "But you have to trust that everything possible is being done to find him. This isn't going to last forever," she insisted. "And then everything will be back to normal. Well," she qualified with a grin, "as normal as things get around here."

"I just wish Booth would call."

"I know, Sweetie," Angela acknowledged gently. "And he will. He's only been gone," she quickly checked her watch, "about twenty minutes."

Brennan's face registered her shock. "Only twenty minutes?" she exclaimed incredulously. "It feels like so much longer."

"I know," Angela agreed. "But you know as soon as Booth finds anything out . . ."

Angela's assurances were interrupted by Brennan's cell phone, its ring shrill in the suddenly quiet room. Bones reached for it slowly, the dread on her face quickly replaced by relief. "Booth!" she exclaimed into the phone. "Is everything alright? Is Parker OK?"

"He's alright," Booth replied. "The men I asked Cullen for were here before I was. Rebecca and Parker are just fine. How are you doing?"

"Better, now," Brennan told him, giving a silent thumbs-up to a relieved Angela. "I was so worried."

"Any word on Russ?"

"No, not yet," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly in spite of her efforts to stay strong. "I'm sure nothing is wrong," Bones immediately assured him. "But it will be nice to hear it for myself."

"Just sit tight," Booth instructed. "I'll be there in about thirty minutes."

"Absolutely not!" Brennan exclaimed. "And don't try to argue with me," she said before he could interject. "You need Parker right now, and he needs you. Hodgins and Angela are here with me and this house is practically Fort Knox."

Booth was silent and Brennan immediately pressed her advantage. "Really, Booth, we're perfectly safe here and you know you'd feel better if you were with Parker tonight. And I promise I'll call you if anything happens."

"My definition of 'anything', Bones, would be if you heard a mouse sneeze in the basement."

Brennan surprised herself by actually laughing. "Alright, Booth, I promise. Feel better?"

"No," he responded gruffly. "But I'll be there first thing in the morning." He hesitated a moment and then added softly, "Take care of yourself, Temperance."

"You, too, Seeley." Bones gently disconnected the call and stood quietly for a minute, her eyes closed as she offered her gratitude to whoever was listening for the safety of Booth and his son.

"Sweetie, you two are so gone."

Brennan turned to look at her suddenly goofily grinning friend.

"Angela, that's an absurd thing to say," she chided. "While I realize Booth is no longer here, I'm obviously standing right in front of you."

The artist couldn't help but laugh at her friend's oh-so-literal mind. "No, Brennan," she clarified, laughter still in her voice. "I mean you two are . . ." She wiggled her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders eloquently.

"We are . . . what?" Brennan asked, impatient.

"Jeez, Brennan, I mean you're in love with each other!"

Bones recoiled, her face blank with shock. "Angela, don't be ridiculous," she said brusquely as she walked towards the doorway. "We're partners."

"Sweetie, there are partners and then there are _partners_. You two are definitely in the second group."

"You're dreaming."

"Brennan, if this were my dream, I'd sure have you and Booth doing something a lot more interesting together than going over case files." Angela laughed at the dirty look she got from her friend. "Hey, you walked right into that one."

"Angela, this really isn't the time for this conversation," Bones insisted as she walked to the staircase, grabbing her overnight bag along the way. "It's been a long day," she said, her voice gentling. "I'm going to go upstairs, take a shower, and try to get a few chapters done on the new book."

"Sweetie, you should try to get some sleep," Angela insisted, concerned as she took in her friend's pale skin and the dark rings under her weary eyes. "You need the rest."

Temperance shook her head as she started up the stairs. "I won't be able to sleep until I hear about Russ," she said grimly. "And maybe not even then. Not as long as he's out there."

She turned at the top of the stairs to smile gamely down at her friend. "I'll see you in the morning."

Angela watched Brennan until she disappeared from view, her brow wrinkled with concern. Brennan needed sleep, there were no two ways about it. She had been going on pure stubbornness for almost forty-eight hours without taking a break. Angela folded her arms across her stomach as she walked slowly to the sitting room. There had to be something she could do. Suddenly she stopped. "Of course," she murmured to herself, abruptly changing course and heading for the kitchen. The sleeping pills Jack had been given after he had been buried alive! She could just ground one up and put it in something. Maybe warm milk. If she pouted enough she was sure she could get Brennan to drink it. And if Brennan was mad about it in the morning, at least she'd be angry with a good night's sleep under her belt.

Angela hurried into the kitchen and opened the medicine cupboard. It took some digging but she finally found the small orange bottle. Pouring one into a bowl, she began to crush it with a spoon. Brennan would never notice one little pill in a glass of milk.

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Dark eyes watched Angela through the mullioned kitchen windows. What was that crazy bitch doing? He watched her as she ground a pill into dust and then heat some milk. She carefully poured the powder into a glass and, minutes later, thoroughly stirred in the warm liquid. "Oh, Jesus, is she doing what I think she's doing?" he murmured with glee. "I couldn't have planned this better myself!" He was practically dancing as he hopped from one foot to the other in barely-suppressed excitement. "Please be giving her a sleeping pill!" He lowered his binoculars and clenched his fists in early triumph. This was going to be even better than he had planned. She would be defenseless and he could do whatever he wanted. Thank God for the good doctor's helpful friends. That artist bitch was going to deliver Temperance Brennan to him on a silver platter.

**AN: Sorry it has taken so long to update but the muse and I were not agreeing on ANYTHING. Let me know what you think of the latest chapter. Seriously. Feedback keeps me going and my muse cooperative. Giddy, even:) So click on the little blue button and make us both happy! And thanks so much for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Booth unclipped his holster from his belt and laid it on the bedside table next to the bed in Rebecca's spare room, keeping it in easy reach. Sinking slowly onto the soft mattress, Booth signed deeply and rubbed his hands over his face. God, it had been a long day. A long _two_ days. And it still wasn't over. Booth had to be honest with himself and acknowledged that it wouldn't be over until the Gravedigger was dead. Not captured, not imprisoned. Dead. Only then could they breathe freely, knowing that psychotic asshole could never hurt them again.

Loosening his tie, Booth checked his cell phone once again. No missed calls, no texts. He didn't know if he should be relieved or worried. Booth hesitated over the phone for a moment, wondering if he should call Bones again and check on her one more time.

"Daddy?"

Booth's eyes shot to the door and his face softened at the sight of Parker in his favorite dinosaur pajamas. "Hey, bud. What's up?"

Parker fidgeted in the doorway, his little face showing concern and uncertainty. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can," Booth replied. Setting the phone down, he gestured to his son. "Come on over here, bud, and ask whatever you want."

Parker hoisted himself onto the bed and sat close to his father, his little hand seeking Booth's. "Is the bad man going to hurt me?"

Booth's hand spasmodically clenched his son's. "What bad man, Park?" he asked, his voice tense under the forced calm.

Parker looked at his father and almost rolled his eyes. "Daddy, I'm not a baby," he informed him seriously. "There are a lot of guys with guns in the bushes and you never stay here. Mommy's been crying and . . ."

"And?" Booth gently prompted.

"I kind of listened to you when you were on the phone."

Booth signed and closed his eyes. This kid was way to sharp for his own good. "First of all Parker, you should never listen to other people's phone calls. That's rude."

"I know," Parker acknowledged. "But I wanted to know what was happening."

"Second of all," Booth continued, "no one is going to hurt you. There was a . . . problem at work today, that's all. Those men and I are here to make sure everything is alright." Parker still looked apprehensive so Booth continued. "A bad man tried to hurt Dr. Brennan," he admitted. "I was upset and she wanted me to come here and stay with you because she knows you always make me feel better. The men outside are here to make sure nobody bothers us while we catch the bad man."

"Someone tried to hurt Dr. Bones?" Parker exclaimed. "Daddy, you have to shoot him!"

Booth's laughter was choked. "Let's hope I don't have to shoot anyone, OK?"

"Are you worried about Dr. Bones, Daddy?" Parker asked, his huge blue eyes intent on his father's face. "If you are, you should go see her."

Booth wrapped his arms around his young son and squeezed him tight. "Dr. Bones is fine," he told the child, assuring Parker as much as himself. "I'm staying with you right now and I'll check on her tomorrow." Booth pulled back to look at his son. "Do you feel better, buddy?"

"Yeah," Parker said. "I know you'll keep us safe. Aunt Angela said you kick ass."

Booth groaned and closed his eyes. "Parker, let's not curse, alright? Your mother would have stroke."

"'K, Daddy," Parker agreed cheerfully. "But you do kick . . .butt."

Booth chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to his son's curly locks. "Love you, Parker."

"Love you, too, Daddy," he replied cheerfully as he jumped off the bed. He waved as he left the room and Booth listened to him run down the hallway to his room.

Booth kicked off his shoes and laid his tie next to his gun. There was no point in getting undressed. If anything happened, he didn't want to be fumbling for his pants. He stretched out on the bed and reached over to turn out the bedside lamp. The room was plunged into semi-darkness. Booth forced his eyes to close and breath deeply. In spite of his best efforts, it was a long time until he was able to fall asleep.

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"Brennan, will you please drink the milk?" Angela pleaded. "I have it on good authority that warm milk helps you sleep."

Temperance, having resolved to spend the majority of the night at the desk working on her book, momentarily took her attention from the screen of her laptop and looked up at her friend. "Angela, I'm not tired," she repeated for what felt like the twentieth time. "And I don't really want to sleep." She looked at the glass of milk in Angela's hand and wrinkled her nose a little. "Besides, I've never cared for warm milk."

"But you care for me, right?"

"What kind of question is that?" Brennan asked indignantly. "Of course I do! You're my best friend."

"Then humor me, will you?" Angela insisted, hoping she had found a chink in the armor. "I won't be able to sleep if I think you're sitting up in here pounding away on your computer. If you drink this, I'll know there's at least a possibility that you'll rest for a while. The soothing properties of warm milk are well documented," she added sagely, nodding to emphasize her point.

Bones sighed and rubbed her temples. "You're not going to let this go until I drink that stuff, are you?" she asked resignedly.

Angela grinned and shook her head, holding out the glass. "Drink up."

Temperance glowered at her friend for a moment and the reached out and took the glass. With a slight grimace, she drained the glass and then wiped off her upper lip. "There," she said, thrusting the glass back into Angela's hand. "I drank it. Now you can relax."

"Thank you, Sweetie," Angela said solemnly, almost suppressing a smile. "See you in the morning!"

Temperance watched as Angela left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, and had to chuckle. Angela Montenegro might look like a pushover, but she could be as stubborn as a mule. Shaking her head, Bones turned her attention back to her computer and began to plan how to get Andy and Kathy out of their latest disaster.

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_She was walking down a long hallway, the darkness broken only by weak light emanating from a few wall sconces. The carpet was thick and rich under her bare feet. She wasn't afraid, she told herself. Everything had been taken care of. It wasn't fear that made her tremble. A draft. That's all it was. She had only imagined the body beneath her window. She was just tired. Once she found Angela, everything would be alright. Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she whirled to face the yawning darkness behind her._

_"Temperance," it called in a sing-song voice. "I've come to play."_

_Oh, God, it was coming. She didn't know what it was, but she could feel the evil creeping towards her, stalking her like prey. She bolted down the hallway and slammed into a door. The dark wood was heavy and the strange brass knob slipped in her damp hands. "Get inside," she muttered to herself, her ears straining for the sound of footfalls on the plush patterned runner that carpeted the glossy wood floor. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her fear like a tangible thing gnawing at her insides. Finally the door gave and she burst into the room, slamming the door behind her._

"_Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The voice taunted her and sent a thrill of fear through her. Her breath came in gasps and her head reeled as she fought off sleep. Oh, God, she had to stay awake! She bit sharply on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, and felt herself wake up a little. She looked frantically for a weapon, a place to hide, anything. Her eyes landed on a far corner of the room, deeply shadowed, and partially hidden by a large wardrobe. She ran across the room and tucked herself tightly against the wall. Soft footsteps were coming closer to the door and she pressed a fist against her mouth to try to muffle her breathing. _

_She curled deeper and deeper into a ball, trying to make herself invisible, and cowered in the darkest corner of the room. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything was alright now. Wasn't it? Isn't that what he promised? Her eyes squeezed shut, she started rocking back and forth and whispering over and over, "He promised, he promised, he promised."_

_Suddenly she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot open wide and fixed on the door to her fragile sanctuary. It was here. Her lips moved in a wordless prayer as she pressed herself even closer to the wall behind her. "He promised," she whispered desperately just as the door flew open and suffocating darkness flooded the room. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still._

Booth was up and clutching his gun before he was even fully awake. His breath rasped through his lungs and sweat poured down his tense, trembling body. As awareness began to creep in, he forced himself to loosen his grip on the grip of his .45. It was the dream again. But so much more vivid this time. So many more details. What the hell was going on?

He forced himself to sit back on the bed and ran a hand over his damp face. Something nagged at him from the retreating edges of sleep. Those doors, that runner. They had seemed so familiar. Where had he seen them before? He set the gun back on the bedside table and glanced at the alarm clock's vividly red digital face. 4:00 in the morning. Booth stiffened. Why had this dream been coming at the same time every night? Why the same dream, just more specific every time?

"Booth, you've been working way too hard," he muttered to himself as he leaned back against the headboard. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "When this is over, I'm taking a vacation," he promised himself aloud. "A long one." As his mind drifted, he wondered vaguely how Bones was doing at Hodgins' massive mansion. That place was ridiculously gorgeous, he thought to himself. The rug in the front hall alone . . .

Booth abruptly snapped erect, immediately and completely awake. "Oh, my God," he murmured. He had seen the runner from the dream just a few hours ago. That runner went up Hodgins' front stairs! And that doorknob – it had been engraved with an old-fashioned coat of arms. It was exactly the same as the ones on the doors that led to Hodgins' sitting room. "Oh, my God," he repeated. "I've got to get to Bones."

Not even bothering to put on his shoes, he grabbed his gun and his phone as he bolted from the room. Dialing Cullen's number while running out the front door, he kept murmuring the same prayer over and over. "Please, God, let me get to her in time."

**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read and review the story. You are awesome and really keep me going! Please let me know what you think of the latest chapter. Gotta keep the muse happy, right? ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Temperance stretched her arms and rolled her neck to release some of the tension that had built in her muscles while she worked on her latest book. Her eyes felt gritty with fatigue and the words on the computer screen in front of her began to blur. She frowned and rubbed her eyes. I haven't been working that long, she thought as she glanced over at the clock on her bedside table. The brightly lit face read 3:45 AM. Temperance shook her head, a little concerned. It wasn't unusual for her to work long into the night and she had never before felt any effects from her lack of sleep. Her ability to go for long periods of time without physical consequences was one of her greatest assets in the field, a trait that was also useful when she became immersed in a story. And she had only come up to work a little over an hour ago.

Shaking her head again in attempt to clear away the cobwebs, Temperance rose to get a drink of water, thinking that it might wake her up, when a wave of dizziness swept over her and she clutched the back of the chair to steady herself. She ran a hand through her hair, blearily wondering what was wrong. Why, she almost felt as if she had been . . . "Drugged," she said aloud, her eyes sweeping the room and landing on the forgotten empty glass. The empty glass that, an hour ago, had been filled with warm milk. The milk that had been pressed on her by Angela, who was so concerned with her friend getting a good night's sleep. "Ange, what did you do?" Temperance groaned, a smile tilting the corners of her mouth in spite of herself. It was just such an _Angela_ thing to do, she thought as she powered off the computer. Deciding not to fight the inevitable and get to bed, Temperance made her way to the windows to draw the curtains. She glanced down into the yard and froze. Was that . . . a body? She rubbed her eyes, hoping against hope that the sleeping pills Angela had given her had affected her eyesight. The dark, huddled form was still there. Though partially hidden under a bush and barely visible through the dark leaves, Temperance's practiced eyes could make out the torso and the unnatural angle of the neck. Stumbling over to the door, she slapped her hand against the light switch and plunged her room into semi-darkness. She could hear her own rapid breathing and forced herself to calm down. Don't think about being drugged or being vulnerable, she ordered herself. Don't think about the body. Get to the phone. Get help.

Brennan waited endless moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and finally began to make her way to the phone on her bedside table. She picked up the phone, held it to her ear and . . . nothing. Oh, God, where was the dial tone? Her fingers probed the back of the phone, finding the cord exactly where it should be. When she gently tugged on the line and met with resistance, discovering that it was plugged into the wall, she immediately realized what had happened. The phone lines had been cut. She rested her head against the wall and tried to slow her heartbeat. Think, Temperance, she told herself harshly. Fight the damn drugs. Of course! Her cell phone! She fumbled for her purse on the bed and groped in the bag until her hand closed around the phone. She pressed Booth's speed dial button and held it to her ear, only to hear repeated beeps. Glancing at the phone screen, she saw "No Signal". She could have screamed with frustration. Did she dare leave the room to try to get reception? If the Gravedigger came upon her now, he could easily overpower her. But what about Jack and Angela? No, she had to try.

Temperance squared her shoulders and took a deep breath as the crept to the door and eased it open. She peered down the seemingly endless hallway and her ears strained for any sound that seemed out of the ordinary. All was quiet. Maybe he wasn't in the house yet. Maybe she had some time. Gripping her cell phone tightly in her hand, she slipped through her bedroom door and, just in case, began to pray.

* * *

Booth cursed as he barreled down the high way. God damn it, Hodgins' phone was out of order. The bastard must have cut the lines. And Brennan's phone went right to voicemail. Driving with one hand on the wheel, he frantically stabbed at the buttons on his cell phone and, moments later, heard the bleary voice of Director Cullen.

"This had better be good," Cullen growled.

"It's Booth," Seeley barked. "Hodgins' phone lines have been cut and Bones' phone goes right to voicemail. I can't get in touch with any of the agents assigned to Jack, Angela and Bones, or Jack's personal security team."

"I'll send four units over right away," the Deputy Director replied, his words clipped and clear. "Where are you?"

"I'm en route," Booth replied, glancing at the illuminated clock in his dashboard. "I should be there in about eight minutes."

"Booth, if things are the way you think, don't go in there alone," Cullen ordered sharply. "You won't help Dr. Brennan by getting yourself killed. Wait for backup."

"Sir, I won't help Bones by sitting in the car, either," Booth snapped. "If it's as bad as I think, we won't have time to get extra men there. And," he added grimly, "I've done some of my best work alone." Not waiting to hear his boss' reply, and with no thought as to the consequences of his actions, Booth abruptly disconnected the call. Glancing at the speedometer, he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the twisting pain in his gut forcing him to go faster. "God, hang on, Bones," he pleaded into the darkness. "I'm coming."

* * *

She was walking down the long hallway, the darkness broken only by weak light emanating from a few wall sconces. The carpet was thick and rich under her bare feet. You're not afraid, she kept telling herself, repeating it over and over in her head. This probably wasn't real, anyway. It was just a dream. A very vivid dream brought on by those pills Angela had tricked her into ingesting. It wasn't fear that made her tremble. A draft. That's all it was. She had only dreamed the body beneath her window. It had been such a long day and she had just been tired. Once she was able to call Booth, once she found Angela, everything would be alright. She kept glancing at her phone screen, hoping to see just a couple of bars that would allow her to place a call. Nothing. She was nearing the staircase when, suddenly, the house was plunged into darkness. She spun wildly, trying to get her bearings. Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she whirled to face the yawning blackness behind her.

"Temperance," he called in a sing-song voice. "I've come to play."

He was here. He was coming. She could feel the evil creeping towards her, stalking her like pray. She bolted down the hallway and stumbled, slamming into a door. The dark wood was heavy and the strange brass knob slipped in her damp hands. "Get inside," she muttered to herself, her ears straining for the sound of footfalls on the plush patterned runner that carpeted the corridor's glossy wood floor. Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her fear like a tangible thing that gnawed at her insides. Finally the door gave and she burst into the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The voice taunted her and sent a thrill of hear through her body. Her breath came in gasps and her head reeled as she fought off sleep. Oh, God, she had to stay awake! She bit sharply on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, and felt herself wake up a little. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as she peered around the room. She could tell it wasn't her bedroom. There wasn't the faintest whisper of moonlight coming through the windows, which told her that the drapes in this room were closed. Hers were still open. She looked frantically for a weapon, a place to hide, anything. A huge, hulking shape on the opposite side of the room looked like a large wardrobe. She made her way over to it and found a deeply shadowed corner right next to it. She tucked herself tightly against the wall and waited. Soft footsteps were coming closer to the door and she pressed a fist against her mouth to try to muffle her harsh breathing.

She curled deeper and deeper into a bally, trying to make herself invisible, and cowered in the darkest corner of the room. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Everything was going to be fine. Wasn't it? Isn't that what he promised? Her eyes squeezed shut and she started rocking back and forth, whispering over and over, "He promised, he promised, he promised."

Suddenly she stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes shot open wide and fixed on the door to her fragile sanctuary. He was here. Her lips moved in a wordless prayer as she pressed herself even closer to the wall behind her. "He promised," she whispered desperately, just as the door flew open and suffocating evil flooded the room.

"I know you're here, Temperance," the silky voice said from the doorway. "You can't hide from me, although it does make the hunt so much more fun."

Brennan buried her face in her upraised knees and clenched her teeth together to keep them from clicking together. He can't see you, she told herself. Just keep quiet. He'll give up and look somewhere else.

"It was so considerate of Angela to put those sleeping pills in your milk. Now I don't even have to worry about taking you by surprise. You're like a sacrificial lamb, all laid out and waiting just for me."

Temperance stopped breathing. Oh, God, he knew she was drugged! He knew she was weak and vulnerable, that she couldn't put up any sort of a fight. And where were Angela and Jack? Were they hiding or had he killed them? And Parker! Oh, God, where was Booth?

"Come, now, Temperance," he said, his voice sounding much closer, much more menacing. "You know the game is over. Super Cop is miles away, sleeping soundly in the mistaken knowledge that you are being well protected and watched over." He snorted derisively. "Stupid man," he said, his voice momentarily loosing its silkiness. "And what of your friends?" he asked gleefully. "Aren't you worried about them? And Russ," he added maliciously. "He'll be joining you soon. The great Dr. Temperance Brennan, righter of wrongs, the voice of the forgotten dead. How pathetic. You couldn't even save yourself or your brother. The two of you will be my crowning achievement." He paused briefly, as if lost in thought, and then, "I wonder how dear stoic Seeley will take it,' he mused, his voice pensive. "He's so good at blaming himself for everything. Will he add your death to his list of sins?" He chuckled maliciously and the sound sent chills down Brennan's spine. "Oh, I hope so."

Brennan muffled a sob and dug her nails into her hands, trying to fight off another wave of fatigue.

Suddenly a shape lunged out of the darkness and crowded into her sanctuary. Hands clamped around her shoulders like steel bands. Brennan struggled against her captor, her hands clawing blindly until she found his face and her nails raked bloody paths down his cheeks. He roared in outrage and her head snapped to the side when the back of his hand made brutal contact with her face.

"Bitch," he gritted out between clenched teeth, one hand grabbing her hair and jerking her head back, the other hand pressing the razor-sharp edge of a knife to the delicate skin of her throat. "There'll be no ransom demand for you," he swore, his voice tight with hate. "I'm going to gut you like a pig. By the time I'm done with you, there won't be enough left to bury."

Brennan felt terror streak through her body and it gave her a surge of strength. She grabbed the hand that held the knife and tried to force it away from her body. Her struggle took him by surprise and she was able to shove his hand away but her victory was heartbreakingly brief. Her captor's shock was momentary and he quickly recovered, moving once again to subdue her. The two shadowy figures slammed across the room, one fighting for her life and the other fueled with almost unbearable hatred. A flailing arm caught in the heavy window drapes and dragged one side back, moonlight filtering through the trees outside and glinting off the blade of an upraised knife.

* * *

Booth slammed on the breaks and the SUV skidded to a halt, the tires kicking up the white stones from Hodgins' driveway. The house was completely dark and no stealthy figures emerged from the night to find out who he was. Booth chambered a round in his .45 and slipped from the car. He moved like a shadow through the darkness, his eyes searching the area for bodies and finding at least two. A muscle clenched spasmodically in his jaw and his hands tightened on his weapon. To hell with Cullen, to hell with backup. There were no rules now that he knew for sure that that son of a bitch was in there with Bones. Booth glanced up at the second floor windows and he tensed when he saw movement in one of them. A curtain had been pulled back. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to make out what was happening on the other side of the glass. There was a sudden flash of white in the window and he saw the moonlight reflect off a knife blade. A shout of horror lodged in his throat as he saw it slash down.

A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still.

**AN: I'm sorry! I know it has been forever since I've updated this story. I'm not even sure if anyone is interested anymore. It has been a CRAZY busy summer and I just wasn't feeling the Muse. I think she ditched me and took an actual vacation, unlike a mere mortal like myself who spent the summer toiling away . . . but I digress. I was so inspired by the season premiere (could Booth have _been_ any cuter?!) and wanted to finish my story. I have another chapter to go, maybe two, so if you'd like to see it finished, please push that little blue button and let me know what you think. Please forgive any typos, I was just so excited to post again. I've missed all of you!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Booth slammed on the breaks and the SUV skidded to a halt, the tires kicking up the white stones from Hodgins' driveway. The house was completely dark and no stealthy figures emerged from the night to find out who he was. Booth chambered a round in his .45 and slipped from the car. He moved like a shadow through the darkness, his eyes searching the area for bodies and finding at least two hidden in the shrubs near the house. A muscle clenched spasmodically in his jaw and his hands tightened on his weapon. To hell with Cullen, to hell with backup. There were no rules now that he knew for sure that that son of a bitch was in there with Bones. Booth glanced up at the second floor windows and he tensed when he saw movement. A curtain had moved. His eyes narrowed as he struggled to make out what was happening. There was a sudden flash of white in the window and he saw the moonlight reflect off a knife blade. A shout of horror lodged in his throat as he saw it slash down._

_A bloodcurdling scream pierced the night and then all was still._

_

* * *

_

Booth felt the blood freeze in his veins and, for a moment, he couldn't move, his feet rooted to the ground. "Oh, Christ," he whispered and the thin sound of his own voice snapped him out of his shock. "God damn it!" he roared as he surged through the open front door. His legs pumped as he took the stairs three at a time, his breath rasping harshly in the eerie silence that filled the house. Reaching the landing, Booth whipped his .45 out in front of him and rapidly made his way down the corridor until he reached the bedroom that he knew contained his nightmare. He stormed through the door, gun at the ready, and jerked to a stop just inside the room.

Moonlight streamed through the window, the gentle light outlining the two figures locked together, the cold steel of the six inch knife blade pressed firmly against the soft white throat of his partner. Booth's fingers tightened on his gun grip. "Let her go," he commanded, his voice hard as iron, his eyes never wavering from the face of his enemy.

"Seeley, Seeley, Seeley," the Gravedigger clucked. "You know that's not how we play the game." He tightened his grip across Brennan's stomach and Seeley heard her moan. He didn't dare take his eyes from the Gravedigger to assess her condition but he knew a sound of pain when he heard one.

"You son of a bitch," he hissed, his eyes flinty with rage. "What did you do to her?"

"Here's what's going to happen, Agent Booth," the Gravedigger replied smoothly, completely ignoring Booth's question. "You're going to step aside and let me pass with the good doctor and, when I'm ready, I'll let you know where to find her." He paused and a soulless smirk twisted his lips. "Pieces of her, at least." He saw Booth's finger tighten on the trigger and increased the pressure of the knife on Brennan's neck, breaking the skin. Booth swallowed hard at Bones' gasp of shock.

"Oh, you'll do it, Agent Booth," he said confidently. "One wrong move on your part and I'll slit her throat right here."

"No, you won't," Booth replied, his eyes never wavering from the Gravedigger's. "Because I'm going to kill you. And I'm going to do it right . . ." His finger squeezed the trigger gently and the explosion of the gun filled the room. For a long moment, the Gravedigger stood where he was, his eyes wide and shocked, a think trickle of blood oozing from the hole in his forehead to run down his nose. He crumpled to the ground and Booth lowered his gun. "Now," he finished grimly.

Finally able to turn his attention to Brennan, he shouted hoarsely as she crumpled to the floor. Rushing over, he knelt next to her and gently lifted her into his arms. He flinched when she cried out in pain. "Where are you hurt, baby?" he asked urgently, his eyes searching her face.

"My abdomen," she gasped, her eyes closed and her skin pasty white. "He . . . stabbed me. Couldn't . . . couldn't stop him."

Booth gently laid her back on the floor and cursed long and fluently at the growing bloodstain high on the right side of her nightgown. He ran to the bed and quickly removed several pillowcases, rushing back to Brennan's side. "Ok, I'm going to take a look," he told her soothingly, tenderly brushing her hair back from her face. "Just relax. Everything is going to OK."

He gently raised the hem of her nightgown to just below her breasts and sucked in a breath at the angry, deep wound just below her ribs that continued to bleed profusely. "This is going to hurt," Booth warned moments before pressing firmly on the wound with a folded pillowcase. Brennan cried out and her face lost what little color it had, her flesh deathly white and clammy. "Christ, I'm sorry, Bones," Booth bit out, his teeth clenched and his eyes cloudy with emotion. "Help is coming, just hang on."

"Jack. Angela," Brennan murmured thickly, her eyelashes inky slashes against her starkly white cheeks.

"I didn't see them when I came in," Booth admitted, his concern deepening as Brennan's blood soaked through the first pillowcase. He quickly replaced it with a fresh one and increased pressure.

"I'm so tired," she whispered, her head beginning to fall to the side.

"Don't fall asleep, Bones!" Booth said urgently, one hand turning her face back towards him. "Come on, Bones, keep your eyes open. You can't go to sleep!"

"Sleeping pills," she murmured, struggling to raise her eyelids. "Angela . . . wanted me to sleep."

"Oh, shit," Booth gasped, panic shooting through his body until his hands trembled with it. "God, Bones, fight it. Please, you have to stay awake!"

Seconds later flashing red and blue lights filled illuminated the room through the window and Booth breathed a prayer of thanks. "They're here, Bones," he said hoarsely, tossing aside yet another blood-soaked pillowcase and replacing it with a clean one. "It's going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine."

Brennan smiled and shook her head. "Always so sure," she whispered, her voice worryingly thin. "I'm . . . loosing a lot . . . of blood," she managed weakly. "Probably . . . hit . . . my liver." She grimaced as a wave of pain washed over her. "Bleed to . . . death."

Booth heard pounding feet coming up the stairs. "In here!" he screamed, his voice rough with terror. "Hurry up, God damn it!" He turned back to Bones and he gripped one of her limp hands in one of his. "You listen to me, Temperance Brennan," he ordered sharply. "You are not going to bleed to death. Do you hear me? I'm not going to let you leave me. You and I are going to be together for a long time. A lifetime, Bones. Do you understand?"

Brennan's eyes slid shut and her head fell limply to the side. Booth felt hands pulling him away from her side and fought like a madman to get back to her, twisting and shoving against the people who dared to restrain him.

"Booth!"

The voice of Deputy Director Cullen snapped him out of his rage and he turned almost blindly to the open doorway. Cullen looked at the three agents still holding onto Booth and jerked his head towards the hallway. The immediately released him and quickly left the room.

Cullen made his way to the distraught agent and put a firm hand on his arm. "Let them work, Booth," he ordered quietly. "They're our best trauma team. You know they're doing everything they can."

Booth nodded, his eyes glued to the slender form being worked over so frantically. "I know," he finally replied, his voice thick with emotion. He took a shaky breath and passed a hand over his eyes. "I didn't get here in time."

Cullen's gaze took in the severely wounded doctor and the dead body mere feet from her. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Doesn't look like that to me," he told his agent. "Somehow I don't think Dr. Brennan shot the bastard."

Booth was shaking his head before Cullen even finished talking. "He stabbed her," he replied tightly. Booth's hands were trembling as he raked them through his hair. "It should never have happened."

"Booth, you have to realize that there are some things you just can't control," Cullen told him, his voice firm. "You got here as quickly as you could and you saved her life. Don't beat yourself up over something you couldn't help." He forced the distraught agent to look at him. "You were where she wanted you to be," he reminded Booth. "You were with your son. Could you have lived with yourself if something had happened to Parker while you were here?" Booth silence was answer enough and Cullen nodded. "She knew that, Booth. You both made the best decisions you could based on what you knew at the time."

The trauma team began to move towards the door and Cullen snagged one of the team members before he could pass. "How is she, Dr. Roberts?" he asked quietly. Booth moved closer, his eyes intent as he waited for the answer.

"Not good," the FBI medic replied grimly, his eyes staying with his patient as the rest of the team rushed her down the hall. "It looks like the bastard may have nicked her liver. She's lost a lot of blood. We have to move quickly to get her to the hospital and into an OR."

Booth took a shuddering breath and watched blindly as Roberts left to be with Brennan. "Come on, son," Cullen said quietly. "We'll follow them. Hodgins and Angela are on their way to the hospital, too."

Booth blinked, having realized that he had completely forgotten about his two friends. "Are they alright?" he asked, his voice dull with sudden exhaustion.

"Fine," Cullen responded as they made their way down the hall. "He used a stun gun on them, tied them up, and shoved them in a closet. He was probably going to take them after he was . . . done with Dr. Brennan. We found them because Hodgins woke up and started kicking at the door."

The two men stood for a moment on the front steps of Jack's mansion and watched Bones being loaded into the waiting ambulance.

"God," Booth whispered into the night, his eyes stinging. "Oh, God, please let her be alright."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Booth burst through the emergency room doors of the Washington Hospital Center, his eyes riveted to the pale, utterly still figure strapped to the gurney that was being rushed down the hall to an examination room. Medical staff surrounded her and orders flew thick and fast as they ran down the corridor.

"We need to get her stabilized!" an ER doctor shouted as they swung into a room. "Her blood pressure is dropping rapidly! What's her blood type?"

"AB+," Booth replied from the doorway, his hands gripping the metal doorframe until his knuckles showed white. "She's a universal receiver."

"Gillian, send up to the lab for six units of blood," the doctor barked to a trauma nurse, who immediately dashed to a phone. "She's leaking like a sieve," he muttered to himself as he tried to staunch the bleeding. "Trish, call up to the OR and tell them we have a trauma victim with a deep stab wound to the upper right quadrant of the abdomen. She's losing so much blood, the knife probably hit her liver. We're bringing her up now. Have them page Dr. Stoneman."

Suddenly a high-pitched whining filled the air and the doctor's eyes shot to the cardiac monitor. "Shit! She's in V-fib. Let's intubate her and begin compressions." A nurse began pumping Brennan's chest while the doctor inserted a long tube into her throat. "Airway is in," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "Charge the paddles and get me one cc of adrenaline." He held the defibrillation paddles over Brennan's chest and called, "clear!" The electricity surged into her limp body and she arched off the table, landing with a soft thud. "Turn it up to 300," the doctor instructed urgently. The machine hummed as it charged. "Clear!"

Booth felt himself gag and pressed a fist to his mouth. Come on, baby, he kept urging silently. Please, God, don't leave me here without her.

"Normal rhythm," the doctor announced, relief evident in his voice. "Let's get her up to the OR as fast as we can. That was way too close." An orderly ran in with six small bags of blood and the doctor grabbed one, passing it to a nurse. "Trish, get that hooked up and open her IV up as far as you can. She needs blood _now_. Let's go."

Booth stepped aside as the trauma team rolled Brennan passed him and he barely kept himself from reaching out to touch her. He was so focused on watching her as the elevator doors closed that he scarcely heard the nurse at his side attempting to speak to him. She finally had to shake his arm to get his attention.

"Sir, are you the patient's family?"

Booth began to shake his head when he heard a voice behind him answer. "They're partners," Cullen said firmly. "I'm Deputy Director Cullen. Dr. Brennan is a consultant for the FBI. As such, Special Agent Booth and I expect to be kept completely informed on every aspect of Dr. Brennan's care and condition."

"Of course, Director Cullen," the nurse replied immediately. "You and Agent Booth are welcome to wait in the Surgical Waiting Room. The doctor will let you know how she is doing as soon as he can."

Booth swallowed thickly, his throat tight with emotion. "We also need to now about Dr. Jack Hodgins and Angela Montenegro," he informed her. "They were brought in right after Bo . . . Dr. Brennan."

"I'll check on that for you and send word up to the waiting room," the nurse assured him. "Take the second elevator on your left to the fourth floor. The waiting area is right across from the elevator doors."

Cullen nodded their thanks and steered Booth to the elevator. "Come on, son," he said quietly, his hand firm on Booth's shoulder. "We'll wait together."

* * *

Booth sat slumped in his chair, his eyes fixed on the door, praying for a doctor to walk through it and tell him Bones was alright. They had been waiting for hours, how many he couldn't say. He only knew that they had been interminable. Cullen hadn't left his side for more than five minutes. He had gone to get a cup of coffee and had practically forced it down Booth's throat. His constant, steady presence had been the only thing that kept Booth sane.

The door opened and Booth started from his seat, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he prayed that it was Bones' doctor with good news. His shoulder slumped when he saw Angela and Jack walk in but he quickly went over and pulled the sobbing artists into a tight one-armed embrace, reaching out with his free hand and firmly grasping Jack's outstretched hand.

"No news yet," he told them grimly. "They let us know when they started the operation, but nothing since."

"Oh, God, Booth," Angela wept. "It's my fault she's in there. If I hadn't crushed up those pills . . ."

Booth pulled back and gripped her shoulders, stooping slightly to look into her eyes. "Angela, it is definitely _not_ your fault," he assured her. "It's the Gravedigger's fault, no one else's. You can't let yourself think like that."

Angela pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, her red, swollen eyes searching Booth's. "You don't blame me?" she whispered shakily.

"Of course not," Booth said immediately. "You were only trying to help her. We both know how stubborn she is," he said wryly. "The only other way you could have gotten her to get some sleep – which she desperately needed – would be to hit her over the head with a baseball bat." He forced himself to smile. "_That_, I couldn't have forgiven. Let's just not make a habit of drugging friends without their knowledge, OK? That's kind of illegal and I _am_ an FBI agent. "

Angela gasped and then chuckled wetly. "Thanks, Booth," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Booth held her for a moment and then pulled back. "How are the two of you?" he asked, his concern obvious. He took in the exhaustion evident on their faces, as well as the bandages on the back of their necks and around their wrists.

"We're OK," Hodgins replied. "Just a little banged up. They wanted to make sure he hadn't done anything to us while we were unconscious, which is why we weren't up here sooner. We've been trying to get information out of the ER staff but they wouldn't tell us a thing. They wouldn't even let the agents downstairs know what was going on."

"What agents?" Booth asked, confused.

"Booth, the ER waiting room is full of FBI agents. As soon as they heard about Dr. Brennan, they started coming in to give blood, trying to get news on how she's doing. There have to be more than a hundred guys down there."

Booth turned astonished eyes to Cullen, who had remained in his seat. The Deputy Director shrugged and said, "I knew they'd want to do something. We always try to help when one of our own is injured."

Booth clenched his jaw against a new wave of emotion and could only manage to nod his thanks to his boss. Clasping Angela's hand, and with Jack following, he led them to a couple of chairs next to him and Cullen and the four of them settled in to wait.

* * *

It could have been minutes or hours later that a blood-spattered, sweat-stained, exhausted surgeon came into the waiting room and made his way to the nurse's station. They spoke briefly and one of the nurses inclined her head towards the little group. The doctor nodded his thanks and made his way over.

"I'm Dr. Stoneman. I understand you're waiting for news about Temperance Brennan," he said wearily, his eyes dark with fatigue.

Booth shot to his feet, the others close behind him, their expressions a combination of hope mingled with dread. "Yes, we are," Booth replied quickly. "How is she?"

"The knife hit her liver, which is why she lost so much blood," the doctor answered. "Thank God he didn't hit an artery but the damage was pretty extensive. She's been given ten units of blood." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you," he said grimly. "She's in bad shape. Critical condition in the ICU. But," he hastened to add, "she still has her liver and her blood pressure has stabilized. At least for now. It's still quite low, which worries me. If she makes it through tonight . . ." he paused for a moment. "All I can say is that the next twenty-four hours will determine what happens."

Booth cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Can we see her?" he rasped.

"Not right now," Dr. Stoneman replied. "We want to keep her as quiet as possible for the next few hours. If she remains stable, then we'll start allowing visitors. But only one at a time." He smiled kindly. "I know it's difficult, but you should go home, get cleaned up, try to get some rest. We'll call you if there's any change."

Booth opened his mouth to refuse but Hodgins spoke before he could. "We can't do that, Doctor," he said firmly. "We'll stay here until we can see her. We need to see for ourselves. But thank you for letting us know."

"It's up to you, of course," Stoneman said. "I'll make sure you get regular updates about Dr. Brennan. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on my patient."

Cullen took out his phone and quickly punched in several numbers. "Just letting everyone know how she's doing," he said quietly. "They'll want to know. And I'm going to get in touch with the agents guarding Russ and his family. They don't know what's happened. I thought it best to keep it from them until we knew anything."

He moved away from the group to make his calls just as Booth's knees buckled. He slumped in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands cradling his head. Angela immediately sat beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. "God, Angela," he rasped. "How are we going to get through the next twenty-four hours? It seems like a lifetime. Her lifetime."

"Don't forget who you're talking about," Angela reminded him gently, tears streaming down her cheeks. "This is Brennan. She's never given up in her life. She's not about to start now." She felt Jack take her hand in a tight grip as Cullen rejoined them and sat next to Booth. "Brennan knows we're here for her," Angela said, her voice firm. "And she knows that she has too much to fight for."

**AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to read the story and to leave reviews. You guys are awesome! Please let me know what you think of this latest installment. The muse needs fuel!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Seeley Booth's sharp footsteps echoed down the long corridor as he followed a nurse to Room 524 in the ICU. He found himself focusing on the strangest things. It seemed odd to him that the nurse's crepe-soled shoes made scarcely a sound on the gleaming tile floor. The hum of life-saving machines clamored in his ears, the sound trickling out of open doors, while the smell of disinfectant and despair almost overwhelmed him. He gave himself a brisk mental shake, forcing his mind to snap out of its sleep-deprived, worry-plagued stupor. The nurse was slowing down, was stopping, was standing beside an open door across which a curtain had been pulled.

"I want to warn you before you go in," she said gently, taking in his haggard appearance and the desperate tension that radiated from his body. "She's still intubated and the doctor has her sedated. She won't be able to talk to you. Her vitals are still low, so there are a lot of machines monitoring her status. And her face is badly bruised." Booth flinched and the nurse smiled gently at him, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "I just wanted you to know what you're going to see. Go in and let her hear your voice. It's amazing what that can do."

Booth nodded his thanks, his eyes already on the curtain, that last, flimsy barrier between him and Bones. He stepped forward slowly and reached out to slide the curtain back, noticing vaguely that his hand seemed to be trembling. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the room. "Oh, God," he whispered, his voice breaking. His fear forgotten, Booth quickly made his way to the side of Bones' bed, reached down, and took her hand in a firm grip.

"Jesus, Bones," he murmured, his eyes moving rapidly over her still form. Both of her eyes were blackened and swollen. A laceration, dark with fresh stitches, slanted across her battered, marble-white forehead. Her hands and arms were heavily bandaged, the pristine white gauze shielding the numerous cuts and stab wounds she had sustained in her fight against the Gravedigger. Her mouth, already distorted from her ventilator, was bruised and cut. Booth went rigid with anger and his hand gripped hers tightly. "I swear to God, Bones," he said, his voice gritty with rage, "I'd kill the son of a bitch again if I could."

Booth took a breath and brought himself under control, though it was a fragile victory. Every wound, every bruise, seemed to inflame him more. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there, Bones," he told her hoarsely, his voice heavy with self-condemnation. "When I realized what was going on, I got to you as quickly as I could, I swear to God. This should never have happened. And when I find out who he had working for him in the Bureau, he's going to pay." The only reply to Booth's impassioned promise was the rasp of Bones' ventilator and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. All of his vengeful energy seemed to leave Booth and his shoulders slumped wearily. Tears blurred his vision as he raised her limp hand to his lips. "You're going to be alright, baby," he swore quietly, as much to himself as to the still, silent figure before him. "Everything's going to be OK."

Angela stood in the doorway of Bones' ICU room, her eyes bright with tears as she took in the sight of the fearless, gung-ho FBI agent slumped in exhaustion in a chair, his head resting on the bed next to Bones' shoulder, their hands intertwined even in sleep.

"Maybe we should just leave them," Jack whispered, his gaze riveted on the two still figures before him. "God knows he needs his sleep."

"Cullen said it was important," Angela responded immediately. "And he wouldn't do anything to take Booth away from Brennan right now unless it was life or death."

"Alright," Jack agreed reluctantly, his hand rubbing across the back of his neck. "I'll go wake him up." As he stepped into the room, he shot a rueful glance over his shoulder. "But he's not going to be happy."

Hodgins had barely touched Booth's shoulder when the agent surged to his feet and whirled to face his imaginary attacker. Jack backed up several steps at the look of fierce hatred on Booth's face, his hands raised in a reassuringly peaceful gesture. "Whoa, whoa, Booth, it's just me," he said quickly. "Take it easy."

It took a moment to register but as soon as Booth realized who was standing in front of him, he immediately relaxed his stance. "Sorry, Jack," he sighed wearily, passing a hand over his sleep-starved eyes. "Habit."

"Yeah, I kind of got that," Hodgins replied ruefully. "Look, man, I wouldn't have woken you up but Cullen sent us in to find you. Said he needed to speak with you right away. He's waiting for you down the hall. More top-secret government stuff, right?"

"Cullen?" Booth repeated, his eyes sharpening on Jack's face. "Did he say what it was about?"

"Not really," Jack answered, his brow furrowed. "He was kind of cryptic about it. Just said that he needed to talk to you about the conversation you had earlier and that you'd be happy with what he had to tell you. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah," Booth said quietly, his gaze on Bones' battered face and his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. "It does." He forced himself to relax and turned back to Jack. "Stay with her, OK? I don't want her to be alone."

"Of course," Jack replied immediately. "I'll stay with her until you come back." He sat at Brennan's bedside and watched Booth until he disappeared around a corner. Only then did he let out the breath he had been holding and move towards the doorway. "Ange," he called softly, reaching out a hand to her when she crossed the hall. "We're waiting with Dr. Brennan. Looks like Booth is going hunting."

Cullen glanced over as he heard Booth rush through the swinging doors leading from the ICU and waved him to a chair, holding up a finger to forestall any questions while he finished up on his cell phone. "Yes, that's understood. We're going after him as soon as I have confirmation of his location. Be ready." Cullen ended the call and focused his attention on the agent sitting across from him.

"We know who helped the Gravedigger," Cullen said briskly. "It was one of the agents who helped bring him in and now we're . . ."

"What's his name?" Booth interrupted, his blank face and steady voice betraying none of the fury that raced through his body.

Director Cullen frowned, his eyes intent on Booth. "Agent Ben Phillips."

"Philips?" Booth exclaimed, shooting up from his chair. "Is that the same Philips that was assigned to protect Bones?"

Cullen signed and ran a weary hand over his face. "It is," he acknowledged. "We had no indication that he might be in collusion with the Gravedigger. As far as we were concerned, Philips was an exceptional agent who was well qualified to protect Dr. Brennan."

"Son of a bitch," Booth bit off. "Where is he?"

"We're waiting for confirmation, Booth," his boss told him, a warning tone already entering his voice. "And when we know his location, we're going to take him into custody. You're not getting anywhere near him. I know how you feel," he said quickly, anticipating Booth's protest. "Believe me, I want to get this bastard so much I can taste it. But we're doing this by the book. He won't have a bruise on him to show to the jury."

"I want to be there," Booth said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I need to see him chained like the Goddamn animal he is."

"Fine," Cullen agreed. "But you don't touch him, understand? You're on the sidelines for this one, Seeley."

"I guess I can live with that," Booth admitted grudgingly. "When will we know where he is?"

Cullen's cell buzzed insistently and he glanced down at the text that flashed on his screen. "We know now," he said with grim satisfaction. "Let's go."

Booth sat rigidly in the front passenger seat of the Director's SUV, his hands clenched in his lap, his mind whirring with every possible scenario of what was taking place just a few hundred yards away. The night was strangely silent, as if even the wind and the crickets knew what was at stake. He glanced down at the illuminated face of his watch. The tactical team should be getting close now, he thought to himself. He closed his eyes and pictured their movements, pictured himself with them as they approached the townhouse in Old Town Alexandria. Any second now. Any second.

The air was split with a deafening boom and a sudden burst of light. A flash bang, Booth thought, his eyes straining to see something, anything that would let him know what was happening. Cullen flipped a switch and the flashing lights on top of the SUV sprang to life, while the wailing of the siren surged around them. The black Suburban lurched forward and, in the space of just a few seconds, they had pulled in front of the townhouse in time to see Philips being led from his sister's home in handcuffs. The imprisoned agent blinked as he took in the controlled chaos surrounding him – the tactical vehicles, the Alexandria police cars, the flashing lights, the sidewalk and streets swarming with FBI and police officers. Suddenly, his eyes met Booth's through the windshield of Cullen's SUV and widened slightly before his lips curled into a sardonic smirk.

Booth's vision narrowed until all he could see was Philips, the twist of his lips, the mocking gleam in his eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, Booth had leapt from the SUV and was sprinting towards Philips. Just five seconds, he kept telling himself. I can have his neck broken in five seconds. Booth got to within a few feet of Philips before three agents intercepted him, their arms wrapping around his struggling form and wrestling him away from the Judas they all hated.

Booth struggled mindlessly against the men restraining him. "You son of a bitch!" he roared, his face mottled with rage. He wrenched futilely, trying to escape the hands holding him back. "Let go of me, damn you!"

"Booth! Goddamn it, get a hold of yourself!" Cullen shouted, reaching out to grab hold of Booth's face, forcing Booth to look at him. "You're not going to do Dr. Brennan any good by getting yourself arrested," he snapped. "Philips is in custody and that's where he's going to stay, Booth. I swear to God," he promised, his voice throbbing with sincerity. "If I have to sit outside his cell night and day myself until he's sentenced, he's going to face justice. He will pay for what he's done."

Cullen watched as the murderous rage that had swept over Booth slowly ebbed away. The agents holding him cautiously relaxed their holds and, realizing Booth was no longer a threat to their captive, stepped away. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, his voice scratchy and dry. "I don't know what . . ."

"You don't have to explain, Booth," Cullen interrupted, settling a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you do have to think about his trial. We can't do anything that would help his lawyer get him off. Everything has to be strictly by the book."

"Yes, sir," Booth acknowledged, his eyes following Philips as he was not so gently shoved into a waiting FBI vehicle. "By the book."

"Excuse me, sir," a new voice chimed in. Booth and Cullen turned to see a young agent standing nearby, his posture radiating uncertainty.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Your office is on the radio. Says they have a man named Max Brennan there who's refusing to leave until he finds out what the hell is going on with his family." The young man's face flushed red. "His words, sir," he said apologetically.

"Shit. All it needed was Max Brennan," Cullen said, almost to himself. "Alright," he replied, his voice resigned. "Tell Sarah that Booth and I will be there in five minutes. Try to keep the old scoundrel contained until I get there."

"Come on, Booth. Let's get this over with."

**AN: I can't believe it has been so long since I've updated. No excuses, just apologies for anyone who has been wondering why the story wasn't going anywhere. I hope there is still some interest in the story as I plan to finish it as soon as I can. Have to strike while the iron is hot, right? Please forgive any typos - I was really anxious to get this posted - and let me know what you think of the latest installment!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Cullen and Booth could hear the yelling echoing down the hallway as soon as they stepped foot off the elevator. As they strode quickly towards the source of the noise, words began to become more distinct.

" . . . leave for a few days to take care of business and come back to missing children, FBI swarming like ants all over Tempe's apartment, and nobody telling me a Goddamn thing. Well, let me tell you, Agent Whatever, I better start getting some answers right now or . . ."

"Max, calm down."

Max Brennan, cut off mid-tirade, swung to face his newest adversary and immediately changed tactics. "Booth," he said smoothly, his calm voice belying the anger simmering in his eyes. "Would you please tell me why I can't reach either of my children and why it seems my daughter's home has been turned into a satellite headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Investigation?"

Booth sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. "It was the Gravedigger, Max," he replied. "He had Russ – he's fine," Booth hastened to reassure Max when he saw the man's face turn grey. "We had the Gravedigger in custody. He escaped and . . . got to Temperance."

"Oh, God," Max whispered, his eyes pleading with Booth. "She's not . . ."

"No," Booth answered, his throat tight. "But she's in pretty bad shape. She was stabbed and almost . . . bled to death. Been unconscious since just after I found her. The doctors say the next twenty-four hours are critical."

"I need to see her," Max insisted, his chin jutting out as if daring anyone to try and stop him.

"Booth and I were getting ready to head back to the hospital when we got the call informing us that you were here," Cullen said calmly. "We'll take you."

"I appreciate it," Max replied, already heading for the door. As he passed Booth, he took in the pallor of the younger man, the dark circles beneath his eyes and, more than anything else, the defeated slump of his shoulders. Max stopped abruptly and turned to face his daughter's partner. "You need to stop, Booth. And I mean right now."

Booth's head snapped up and his weary, troubled brown eyes met Max's steady blue gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"You're blaming yourself for Tempe. No, don't try to brush me off," he ordered at Booth's dismissive gesture. "I've gotten pretty good at reading people over the years and your guilt is practically tattooed on your face."

"So what if it is!" Booth suddenly raged, whirling away from Max to stare blindly through the window at the ink black night. "You haven't seen her yet, Max. You don't know what he did. If I'd been there . . ."

"Don't do that to yourself, son," Max ordered sternly. "I know what you and Tempe . . . mean to each other and I know that you've put yourself in danger for her time and again. If you could have been there, you would have. That's a fact." Max put a firm hand on Booth's arm and turned him around. "I'm not going to tolerate a lot of self-flagellation here, Booth," he said briskly. "That's not going to help Tempe. What will help her is knowing that the people who love her are focusing all of their energy on getting her well. You keep playing these head games, blaming yourself for not being omnipotent, you're taking your focus off my daughter. I won't have that. Understood?"

Booth felt his lips move in a shadow of a smile as he looked down at Bones' suddenly commanding father. "Understood, sir."

* * *

Dawn broke over Washington, D.C., flooding the city with its soft, pink light and gently heralding a new day. As the sun's rays filtered through the blinds of Dr. Temperance Brennan's ICU room, however, those gathered around her bed felt little of its warmth. Sometime during the night, Dr. Stoneman had ordered the nurses to lessen Bones' sedation to try to bring her around. The hours passed and Bones had remained unconscious and unresponsive. She seemed almost lifeless as she lay in the bed, still and silent. The only visible signs of life were the disturbingly mechanized rise and fall of her chest as the ventilator breathed for her and the vivid bruises standing out against her pale skin.

"Where's the damn doctor?" Russ fumed as he paced at the foot of his sister's bed. "I want to know what's going on with Tempe, and I want to know now!"

"Russ, cool down," his father ordered sternly from his seat by the bed. "The nurse said he was on his way. I'm sure he'll have good news for us once he takes a look at Tempe. You need to have faith, son."

Russ's shoulders slumped as he sank into a chair. "I know, Dad," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the still, small form in the hospital bed. "It's just hard seeing her like this."

"It is," Max agreed, tightening his grip on his daughter's limp hand. "But we have to keep it together. And not just for Tempe. For Booth, too."

"Booth!" Russ spat, his face twisting in anger. "I'm not wasting my sympathy on that son of a bitch. If he had been with Tempe, this wouldn't have happened. It's his fault my sister is lying in that bed, hooked up to all those God damn machines. It'll be his fault if she . . ."

"That's enough!" Max barked. "Have you taken a good look at him since you got here? Have you?" Russ threw up his hand dismissively, and his father's eyes darkened with anger. "He's exhausted and ashamed and scared to death. He blames himself for what happened to Tempe more than you ever could. The guilt is eating away at him."

"Good," Russ replied bitterly. "He should have been there.

"Do you even know why he wasn't with her?" Max asked sharply. "Cullen told me. The Gravedigger threatened to take his son. _His son_, Russ. If it had been one of your girls, what would you have done?" Russ began to answer but his father cut him off. "Booth did the right thing, the only thing. He went to take care of his child and left Temperance in what was practically a fortress, surrounded by armed guards. As soon as he realized she was in danger, he rushed to get back to her. Booth ran into that house without backup, not knowing if the Gravedigger's accomplice was there, having no idea what he was facing. He went into a deadly situation completely blind to get to your sister. And he saved her life. Don't you ever say any different, Russ." Max's eyes were suspiciously bright as he looked at his daughter's bruised face. "Son of a bitch had a knife to my baby's throat when Booth got there. By God," he whispered, his voice breaking, "I wish Booth _hadn't_ shot him. What I wouldn't give to have just five minutes with that piece of shit."

"I know, Dad," Russ agreed softly. "And I'm sorry for what I said about Booth. I didn't know. The only things I heard when they told us was 'your sister is in the hospital'. I haven't been able to think or care about anything but Tempe since we were released from the safe house."

"It's alright, son. You know now."

"Where is Booth?" Russ asked, glancing out into the hallway. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's been in the chapel for the last hour or so," Max replied as he gently stroked Temperance's hand. "If God's going to hear anyone's prayers for Tempe, it'll be Booth's."

* * *

Soft lights gently illuminated the small chapel, a welcome contrast to the glaring white lights of the hospital corridors. Flames flickered and danced hopefully, almost cheerfully, where votive candles had been lit, a testament to so many other prayers. Booth had lost track of how long he had been kneeling there. It was as if time had stopped as soon as he knelt to pray, the Rosary clutched like a lifeline in his hands. Every prayer he uttered, every breath he took was a plea for the life of his best friend. The silence was abruptly broken by the sound of the door swinging open. Booth didn't move, though his body tensed as though anticipating a blow.

"Booth?" Angela called quietly into the dim room. "Sweetie, the doctor's up with Bren. Max thought you should be there."

Moments passed without a reply. "Thanks, Angela," he finally said, rising stiffly from the kneeler. "Is Jack still here?"

"Yeah," the artist replied, linking her arm through Booth's. "We've been keeping each other company in the ICU waiting room." She shrugged and her voice trembled a little as she added, "We just couldn't seem to leave."

Booth pressed a hand firmly over the one that rested on his arm. "I know, Ange," he said quietly. "We just have to believe everything is going to be OK."

"I do," she answered, though her voice trembled.

Booth smiled down at her, conveying a confidence that even he didn't quite believe. "Then let's go get some good news."

**AN: A little shorter than my previous postings but it is a bit of a transition chapter. I have a pretty good idea of where this is going, so I'll post again soon. If you could, please take a minute to leave some feedback if you're enjoying the story. I'd love to be able to break 100 reviews before the story ends - and your comments really keep me going! Thanks for reading:)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Booth and Angela quickly made their way from the chapel to the ICU, neither of them speaking but both feeling the almost desperate hope that radiated from the other. As they neared Bones' room, Booth saw that Max, Russ and Hodgins were standing in the corridor, leaning against the wall on either side of the doorway. Max pushed himself away from the wall to meet Booth and Angela as they approached, their faces reflecting mingled hope and fear as they waited to hear how Brennan was doing. Hodgins went straight to Angela and took her in his arms, offering whatever comfort he could.

"The doctor's in with her now," Max told them preemptively.

"Has there been any sign that she's regaining consciousness?" Booth asked quietly, his eyes glued to the privacy curtain that separated him from Bones.

"None," Max signed, passing a weary hand through his already-mussed hair. He tried to smile. "But you know how stubborn my Tempe is. She's not going to wake up until she's good and ready, no matter what some doctor says."

Booth managed a soft chuckle. "The first thing out of her mouth will probably be to tell him what he's doing wrong."

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Max agreed, his voice a little too hearty. "Never was any doubt that my girl could run rings around anyone for smarts." Suddenly his face crumpled and he pressed a trembling hand to his brimming eyes. "Sorry," he murmured. "Don't know what came over me."

"Oh, Mr. Brennan, you don't have to apologize," Angela protested as she rummaged in her purse for a tissue.

Booth put a supporting hand on Max's shoulder. "She's going to be alright, Max," he promised. "She's made it this far. We have to believe that means something."

"Booth is right, Dad," Russ said, glancing at Booth gratefully as he put an arm around his father. "Tempe's not going anywhere until she's good and ready. That won't be for a long time."

Jack managed a smile and added, "At the very least she'd consider it unprofessional to leave the Jeffersonian in unqualified hands."

A startled laugh broke from Max. He roughly brushed the tears from his cheeks and raised his head to face the tiny group surrounding him. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "I guess I just needed to hear that from someone other than the voice in my head."

"Mr. Brennan?"

Five heads whipped around to find Dr. Stoneman emerging from Temperance's room, his impassive features revealing nothing.

"How is she?" Max asked immediately, his eyes pleading for good news.

"Her vitals have improved and we aren't seeing any signs of infection, which is always a good sign," the doctor informed them.

"But," Booth said slowly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What haven't you told us yet, Doctor?"

"You have to understand, the human body is not like a machine," Stoneman explained, his voice grave. "Every case is a little different. The fact that she hasn't regained consciousness since we've taken her off sedation is a concern. Now, I'm not saying you should be alarmed," he hastened to add. "Not yet. Her body is reacting to a massive trauma and it's going to take all the time it needs to repair itself. But I'm going to need your help with trying to bring her back around."

"What can we do?" Jack asked immediately. "Whatever you need, Doctor. Just tell us."

Stoneman nodded. "As doctors, we can only do so much. A great deal of a patient's recovery depends on their emotional strength, on their desire to get well. That's where I need your help. Take turns sitting with her, talking to her. It doesn't even have to be about anything special. Tell her about your day, read an article aloud that you think she would like. Just let her know that you're here and want her back. It sounds a bit odd, but I've learned never to discount the power of love and prayer to help bring a patient back."

"You said we shouldn't be alarmed yet," Russ pointed out. "When should we start to worry? I mean, when are you hoping to have her conscious and aware?"

The doctor's brow furrowed in thought and he rubbed his chin. "Ideally, I'd like her to regain consciousness as soon as possible. Twelve hours at the most. As soon as she's awake, we can check her lung functions and hopefully remove her breathing tube. The longer she's on that, the weaker her lungs get."

"Someone will be with her every minute, Dr. Stoneman, we can guarantee that," Angela piped in. "We can set up a kind of rotating schedule."  
"Just what I was hoping to hear," Dr. Stoneman replied warmly. "I'll check on her at least once every hour and the nurses will keep me posted on how she's doing when I'm with my other patients." He clapped a reassuring hand on Max's shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze before starting down the hall. "She's a strong woman, Mr. Brennan, and she has every reason to get well. Hold on to that thought."

"Thanks, Doctor," Max answered softly, his eyes drifting back to the sight of his daughter lying motionless in her hospital bed.

"I'll take the first shift," Max announced and was immediately met by a chorus of protests. "There'll be no argument," his insisted firmly. "Russ, you need to get home to Amy and the girls, make sure they're alright. And you're still recovering, for God's sake. The same goes for you, Jack and Angela. I'm not forgetting that you were both tasered and held captive. And Booth, you haven't had a moment's peace since this whole thing started. I'll stay here for the first couple of hours. Jack and Angela can come next, then Russ, then Booth." When he saw they were still going to try and argue, his eyes flashed in irritation. "I'm not going to debate this. I'm her father, I'm your father, Russ, and I'm old enough to be yours," he claimed, gesturing to the others. "Now take off."

Grudgingly agreeing, Russ, Jack and Angela hugged Max and soon disappeared through the ICU doors. Max looked at Booth, his brows raised in silent question.

"I'm not leaving the hospital, Max. No," he restated when he saw Max was going to object. "I'll try to rest if that's what you want, but I'm not leaving until she's awake. I can ask the nurse if I can use the on call room or catch a nap in the waiting room until my shift with Temperance comes around."

"Alright, Booth," Max agreed gently, seeing how much it meant to the younger man. "But you have to promise to try to sleep. It won't do Tempe any good if you make yourself sick. And you still have to think of Parker, you know."

"I haven't forgotten," Booth reassured him, already heading for the nurses' station. "Call me if anything happens."

Max watched Booth as he followed a nurse down the hall and slowly shook his head as he resumed his bedside vigil. "You are one lucky woman, Tempe," he whispered as he stroked his daughter's pale, limp hand. "One very lucky woman."

* * *

Booth fidgeted restlessly on the hard, narrow bed in the on call room, trying his best to keep the promise he had made to Max. Every so often he glanced at the clock on the wall across from him. The minutes crept by so slowly – 1:15AM. 1:19. 1:22. God, the night was never going to end. He tried counting sheep, saying the same prayer over and over, relaxing his whole body; he even tried talking himself to sleep. Nothing worked. Every time Booth closed his eyes, all he could see was his partner and best friend lying motionless in a hospital bed with tubes and wires crisscrossing her body. "Please, God," he whispered for what seemed like the millionth time, "please bring her back."

Barely a heartbeat later, Booth's cell phone vibrated madly on the small desk next to the bed and he lunged for it, hoping with everything he had that it was good news about Bones. "Hello?" he almost whispered, as though afraid to hear from the person on the other end of the line.

"Daddy?"

Booth released the breath he had been holding with a sibilant whoosh and swung his feet down from the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he rested his head on his hand and rubbed weary eyes. "Hey, buddy," he replied, trying to sound normal. He glanced at the clock and was startled to see that it was 2:00 AM. "Parker, what are you doing up at this hour? Does your mom know that you're calling me?"

There was a momentary silence on the phone. "Kinda," Parker finally answered.

"Parker," Booth said warningly. "The truth, now."

"Mommy knew that I wanted to talk to you only she said I couldn't on account of Dr. Bones was sick and I kept asking and asking what was wrong but she'd start to look like she was gonna cry and say not to worry that everything would be fine but I know it's not and when you didn't come back to see me I knew something had to be wrong and I got kinda worried about you and Dr. Bones so I waited and waited until I knew I wouldn't bother Mommy if I called but if Mommy was awake I know she wouldn't mind 'cause I've been asking and asking all day." Parker finally ran out of breath and the frenetic explanation came to a merciful end.

Booth chuckled softly into the phone. "Alright, Parker," he said soothingly. "I get the picture. But we can only talk for a minute and then you go straight to bed. Understood?"

"OK, Daddy."

"So somewhere in that long, long excuse of yours, I think I heard that you were worried about Dr. Bones and me, right?"

"I know Dr. Bones is sick," Parker replied, his little voice almost dropping to a whisper. "Mommy said a bad man hurt her and she's in the hospital. I knew that if someone tried to do something to Dr. Bones, you'd kick their ass – "

"Parker!" Booth exclaimed, shocked and not a little amused by his son's profanity.

"But Daddy, Uncle Hodgins says you kick peoples' asses!"

"Yeah, OK, Parker, but let's not say that anymore. Your mother would have a fit if she heard you."

"Sorry, Daddy. Anyway, I knew that you'd go after them and I was kinda scared that you might have got hurt, too."

"I'm fine, buddy," Booth reassured him. "Not a scratch."

"What about Dr. Bones?" Parker asked persistently. "Did the doctor make her OK again?"

"He's trying really hard," Booth replied, his throat tightening at the concern he heard in his son's voice. "And Dr. Bones has a lot of people here to take care of her. You don't need to worry about that. Everything is going to be fine."

"Oh, I'm not _really_ worried, Daddy," Parker assured him. "I know Dr. Bones will be OK as long as you're there. She told me you're like her guardian angel."

"What?" Booth rasped. "When did she say that?"

"When I came to the lab before school started. I was telling her about the story you told me about my guardian angels and I asked her if she had one. She thought real hard about it and said she guessed you were the closest thing she had. So that makes you her guardian angel, doesn't it, Daddy?"

"Sounds like it, Parker," Booth murmured as he wearily rubbed his forehead.

"When you see Dr. Bones, will you give her a hug from me?" Parker asked.

"I'll give her a whole bunch of hugs," Booth promised sincerely, praying with every breath that he would be able to deliver on his promise soon. "Now you get to bed. I'll call you in the morning, alright?"

"Alright, Daddy," Parker chirped. "Love you!"

"Love you, too, buddy," Booth replied. He hit the "end" button and rested his head against the upraised phone.

"Agent Booth?"

Booth shot up from the bed, his eyes going to the shadowed figure in the open doorway of the room. "Yes," he answered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Any word?"

"You're wanted in Dr. Brennan's room right away," the nurse replied, and quickly stepped out of the doorway just in time for Booth to rocket past as he sped down the hallway at a dead run.

**AN: I'm so sorry it has taken such a long time to update. I will be finishing the story soon, so please keep an eye out for further chapters. If you liked what you have just read, please click on that little blue button and let me know. Feedback always bring a smile to my face . . . and keeps my thoughts flowing! Thanks:)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_"Agent Booth?" _

_Booth shot up from the bed, his eyes going to the shadowed figure in the open doorway of the room. "Yes," he answered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Any word?"_

_"You're wanted in Dr. Brennan's room right away," the nurse replied, and quickly stepped out of the doorway just in time for Booth to rocket past as he sped down the hallway at a dead run._

* * *

Booth's lungs were pumping like a bellows as he sprinted down the corridor, prayers for Bones' safety running through his mind. He ground to a halt when he saw Max Brennan outside his daughter's door, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees. His shoulders were moving in what could only be sobs. Booth felt his heart clench painfully and made his way slowly to the weeping father of his best friend.

"Oh, God, Max . . ." Booth began hoarsely, his throat closing up before he could say any more. He put his hand on the older man's trembling shoulder and ignored the sting of tears in his own eyes as he tried to comfort him. "I'm . . . so sorry," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

"No, Booth," Max replied hastily as he thrust himself erect, his face wet with tears but gloriously happy. "No, son, it's not that. She's awake."

"What?" Booth shook his head as if to clear it. "Awake? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Max assured him softly. "I was sitting next to her, praying for all I was worth, talking to her about . . . God, I don't even know what," he chuckled weakly. "Anyway, I glance up and there she is, eyes wide open and trying to make sense of everything. I've never moved as fast in my life as when I went to get the doctor. He's in with her now. But I know she's alright," he said emphatically. "I could see it in her eyes."

Booth slumped against the wall and pressed a trembling hand over his eyes. "Thank God," he murmured brokenly, tears seeping past his fingers.

"Mr. Brennan."

Max and Booth both spun around to face the man standing in the doorway. "How is she?" Max asked immediately, his hands clenched together.

Dr. Stoneman smiled. "She's doing surprisingly well," he replied. "Her vitals are still a little weak, but that's to be expected. Her lung functions are good, so we're going to try taking her off the ventilator." He shook his head ruefully. "I think she'd try to take it out herself if I hadn't decided to do it."

"That's my girl," Max chuckled, his eyes bright with unshed tears of joy. "When can we see her?"

"I think it would be best if you and Agent Booth stayed out here while we remove the breathing tube. It can be a bit distressing for loved ones to . . ."

A nurse suddenly appeared behind Dr. Stoneman, a look of concern on her face. "Doctor, she's getting agitated," she informed him. "She keeps gesturing at the hallway. I can't get her to calm down and I'm worried she may harm herself."

"We may need to sedate her," Stoneman replied reluctantly. "It would mean delaying the removal of her breathing tube, but . . ."

"Let us go in there," Booth interjected. "We can try and settle her down, and you can still take out the tube. Please, don't sedate her. Give us a chance first."

Moments passed as the doctor considered Booth's suggestion, then he shrugged. "It can't hurt," he allowed. "But calm her down quickly, Agent Booth. Any violent movements could tear her sutures and cause internal bleeding. I don't want to sedate her, but I will."

Max immediately entered the hospital room, but Booth lagged a few steps behind. As he stood in the doorway, taking deep breaths, he felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced around to see Dr. Stoneman standing behind him, a look of understanding on his face. "You'll be alright, Agent Booth," he assured him. "And so will she. Just go in and talk to her."

"Yeah," Booth murmured. "I just don't want to loose it when I see her, you know?"

"I know," Stoneman replied. "But so what if you do? There are worse things in the world than letting the people we love know that we care." He gave Booth a gentle shove. "Go on."

Booth raised a trembling hand to push aside the privacy curtain and stepped into the dimly lit room. He saw Bones gesturing weakly towards the door, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked at her father. "Honey, calm down," Max said soothingly, attempting to quiet her movements. "Just calm down. I'll get you some paper and a pen. You can write out what you want, OK? But you need to settle."

"Listen to the old man, Bones," Booth admonished as he walked towards the bed. "You want to get that tube out of your throat, right?"

At Booth's first word, the tension went out of Temperance's body and she relaxed into the mattress. She weakly raised a hand and held it out to him. Booth moved quickly to her side and enveloped her pale hand in his. "Everything's alright now, Temperance," he assured her quietly, his deep brown eyes gazing deeply into hers. "You're going to be fine."

"Here, honey," Max interjected, placing a small pad of paper on her lap and folding her fingers around a pen. "You were trying to tell me something before Booth came in. What is it?"

Brennan's hand moved slowly across the paper, the letters shaky and thin. When she was finished, she weakly pushed the pad towards Booth and let her head slump back against the pillow.

Booth picked up the paper and tears once again filled his eyes as he read the wobbly message: _R u OK?_ "Jesus, Bones," he murmured as he brushed a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." Bones managed to raise an eyebrow and Booth laughed wetly. "OK, so I've looked better."

"Booth hasn't left the hospital since they brought you in, Tempe," Max interjected, his smile soft as he took in the sight of his daughter and her partner. "Angela, Hodgins, and Russ are going to be back soon. I had to kick them out of the hospital, but this stubborn partner of yours wouldn't budge. We've all been so worried about you. But you're awake, thank God, and the doctor wants to take that tube out. You ready for it?"

Temperance nodded immediately and Max went to the door to call the doctor in. "Your dad and I are going to step out while they do this, Bones," Booth said, but immediately had to take his words back when Brennan began to shake her head frantically. "Dr. Stoneman said it would be better if we waited . . ." He cut himself off as he saw how agitated she was getting. "Alright, Bones," he soothed, gripping her hand in both of his. "We'll stay right here. Calm down."

"Agent Booth, Mr. Brennan, if you'd step outside . . ." Dr. Stoneman began, but Booth cut him off. "Sorry, Doctor, but Bones wants us to stay. We'll stay out of your way," he hurriedly added before the doctor could object. "But we're staying."

Stoneman looked as though he was going to argue for a moment, but then he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine," he agreed. "But stand over there." He gestured to a wall across the room and began preparations to remove the breathing tube.

"You'll be fine, baby," Booth whispered as he bent to press a gentle kiss against Bones' forehead, neither of them noticing the endearment. Max heard, though, and he was grinning as he smoothed a hand over Brennan's hair. "We'll be right over here," he assured his daughter. "Don't worry."

"Alright, Dr. Brennan, we're just going to raise the bed a bit." The soft whirr of the bed's motor filled the room as Brennan was lifted into a semi-sitting position. "Now, take a deep breath," Dr. Stoneman instructed, "and when I tell you, cough hard." Temperance inhaled and when Dr. Stoneman said, "now!", she coughed and gagged as the tube was pulled from her throat.

"Deep breaths, Dr. Brennan," Stoneman said soothingly as Bones continued to cough. "Your throat will be sore for a while, so try not to talk too much." He turned to Booth and Max. "Keep her quiet," he ordered sternly. "She needs rest, time to recuperate. Make sure you don't tire her out."

"We won't, Doctor," Max replied, his eyes glued to his daughter's face. "And thanks for everything."

"How do you feel, honey?" Max asked as he caressed his daughter's cheek.

"I'm fine, Daddy," Temperance replied hoarsely, unwittingly calling him by the name she hadn't used since childhood. "At least, I will be fine," she amended, wincing as she tried to reposition herself on the bed. "I'm so weak." She winced and inhaled sharply. "And I definitely need something for the pain." Bones relaxed once again against the pillow, and her eyes sought out Booth, finding him still leaning against the wall. The corners of her mouth lifted in a slight smile as tears filled her eyes. "Hey, partner."

**A/N: SO sorry it has taken this long to update, but we're in the home stretch. I hope you're still interested in the story! Thanks for taking the time to read . . . and for being so patient! 3 **


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Angela and Hodgins strolled through the lobby, a huge bouquet of yellow roses towering over them. "I can't believe Brennan is finally getting out of ICU," Angela exclaimed as they waited for the elevator. "I mean, two weeks in that place? I'd go crazy. I'm so glad she can finally be in a regular room, with regular visiting hours, and we can bring her flowers and things to brighten up her room."

"I know," Hodgins agreed, stepping back to let Angela on the elevator first. "And Booth has to be thrilled. Now that she's definitely out of danger, maybe he'll start sleeping in an actual bed again instead of on the waiting room couch."

"But how sweet was that?" Angela asked dreamily. "He never left her side." She sighed. "The only thing left now is to start planning the wedding."

"Whoa, honey, slow down," Hodgins admonished. "I mean, this is Dr. Brennan we're talking about. She doesn't do the whole marriage thing, remember? And as far as I know, and, more importantly, as far as _you_ know, they haven't even gone down the 'feeling road' yet."

"Oh, please," Angela scoffed as she stepped off the elevator onto Brennan's new floor. "It's just a matter of time. Even Brennan can't be that thick." She stopped, suddenly uncertain, and shot a look at Hodgins. "Right?"

* * *

"So when do they give you your walking papers, Brennan?" Angela asked as she arranged the flowers in their vase. "It can't be too much longer, can it?"

Brennan shrugged and grimaced slightly as she pushed herself higher in the bed. "Liver lacerations take a long time to heal," she replied, her voice clinical. "And when an injury is as bad as mine was, doctors tend to be cautious. That's why I was in the ICU for so long. Infection is always a worry, too."

"Well, at least you can have flowers now," Angela said firmly as she set the vase of cheerful blooms on the windowsill. "They keep the room from looking too institutional."

"They are beautiful," Temperance acknowledged. "Thank you for bringing them." She fidgeted slightly and winced. "I just can't seem to get comfortable," she said irritably. "Angela, would you ring for the nurse? I'd like to try sitting in the chair."

"Never mind the nurse, Angela," a new voice said from the doorway. "I'll take care of it."

"From G-man to orderly?" Hodgins grinned as he shook Booth's hand. "Why the career change?"

"Cute, Hodgins," Booth replied good-naturedly as he crossed to Brennan's side. "How are you feeling today?" he asked, suddenly serious, his eyes taking in every expression on her face.

"Better, now that I'm in a regular room," Temperance told him. "I just need a change in position."

"No problem," Booth replied gently. "Hodgins, would you grab the spare blanket from the closet and put it over the chair? Angela, keep an eye on her IV stand." Booth leaned over the bed and gently slid his arms around her back and under her legs. Brennan caught her breath as he slowly stood and her arm slid around his shoulders for support.

"Hold it a minute, please," she gasped, closing her eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her head dropped to Booth's shoulder as she struggled to fight off the urge to faint.

"What's wrong?" Booth asked urgently, his arms tightening around his slight burden.

"Just a little light headed," Brennan replied softly. "It's been so long since I've been anywhere but bed. It'll pass in a minute."

"Alright," Booth agreed reluctantly. "But if it doesn't, I'm getting the doctor."

"Could you just sit in the chair with me for a little bit?" Brennan asked as she raised her free hand to rub her forehead. "Just until I get used to being up."

"Of course, Bones," Booth replied soothingly, slowly making his way to the chair and settling in, Temperance held close in his arms. Angela followed closely behind with the IV stand, her eyes shining at Jack as she took in the picture of her best friend being held by the man who loved her more than anything.

Booth settled against the back of the chair and Bones unconsciously nestled closer to him. "This is so much better," she murmured, her breath warm and soft on Booth's neck.

"Yeah," Booth replied huskily, his cheek resting on her hair and his hand tracing a soothing pattern on her thigh. "Much better."

Just as Angela was signaling frantically to Hodgins that they needed to leave, the door swung open and Russ bounded in with a cheerful, "Hey, sis, it's about time you were out of . . . oh," Russ finished lamely, taking in the scene before him with dawning clarity. "I can come back if . . ."

"Too late, son," Max interjected, his wry tone belying the twinkle in his eye. "Damage is already done." He spun to face the room's other occupants and smiled. "Good to see you, Angela," he said hugging the artist. "And Jack. How's the bug business?"

"Booming, sir," Jack grinned as he shook the older man's hand. "Though it will be better when we get our forensic anthropologist back."

"You know, we were just leaving," Angela declared as she grabbed Jack's arm and began backing towards the door. "We have a lunch reservation."

"It's 9:30 in the morning," Russ pointed out just before his father's elbow caught him in the ribs.

"You've never had an early lunch?" Angela asked innocently. "Why don't you join us? I'm sure you all must be tired of hospital food. We'll celebrate Brennan's release from the ICU."

"Actually, Angela, I was hoping one of you could stay with Bones," Booth said from behind them. "I have a meeting downtown in about thirty minutes and I should really get going."

"A meeting?" Angela almost wailed, but quickly pulled herself together. "Of course we'll stay with Brennan," she replied staunchly. "When should we expect you back?"

"I'll be by after lunch," Booth told her as he slowly stood and lowered Bones gently to the reclining chair. "OK, Bones?" he asked softly, his eyes intent on her face as he watched for any sign of illness.

"I'm fine, Booth," Temperance replied, smiling up at him gratefully. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he murmured and reached out to gently touch her cheek. "I'll see you this afternoon. And, if you're up to it, I have a surprise for you." He turned to find the room's other occupants carefully considering the various generic paintings on the wall, or inspecting the thermostat. Or checking out the closets. Anything, it seemed, but looking in their direction.

Booth shook his head ruefully as he said his goodbyes. Who did they think they were fooling?

* * *

"Who did they think they were fooling?" Angela exclaimed to Jack as they made their way to the hospital parking deck. "I mean, please. Booth certainly couldn't have made his feelings any more obvious. And Brennan! She was clinging to him like a . . . like a clinging vine!"

"Angela, for God's sake," Jack groaned. "Even you, in the midst of your romantic delusion, have to realize that Brennan was clinging to him because she has been _very sick_. She almost died! Of course she was holding onto him. She was dizzy. You can't read anything into that, even though I know that's what you're going to do anyway."

"Say what you want, Jack," Angela replied archly. "I just think this situation is forcing them to face what they feel and it's coming out in their body language."

"You know I agree with you, at least about how the two of them really feel about each other," Jack admitted. "But, Ange, be reasonable. They've been through a trauma. Give things a chance to die down before you start planning the shower, OK? Booth and Brennan have to realize their feelings on their own." He stopped and placed his hands on her shoulders, lowering his head to they were eye to eye. "No helping," he said emphatically. "Agreed?"

Angela sighed hugely and rolled her eyes. "Agreed," she replied reluctantly.

* * *

Booth raced down the corridor, his quarry disappearing just around the next corner. He put on an extra burst of speed and reached, his fingers just grasping the runner's jacket. "Gotcha!"

Parker giggled as he was dragged back against his father, the slightly wilting bouquet of flowers clutched in his little hand. "Daddy!" he cried, still laughing as his father hoisted up onto his hip. "I wanted to surprise Dr. Bones!"

"Believe me, buddy, you'll be a surprise," Booth assured him wryly as he pushed the button to call the elevator. "But you have to stay with me, OK? And when we get to Dr. Bones' room, you have to promise that you won't jump on her. She's still pretty sore."

"But she's alright, isn't she, Daddy?" Parker asked, suddenly concerned. "She isn't going to go away?"

"No, Parker, she's not going anywhere," Booth said gruffly. "We just need to be extra careful with her for a while."

"Can I give her a hug?"

Booth smoothed a hand over his son's hair and gave him a squeeze. "Of course you can. An extra gentle hug. She'll love that." Booth stepped off the elevator and set Parker down. "Hold my hand, buddy. No running around up here, OK?"

"OK, Daddy," Parker replied, happily holding his father's hand as he skipped down the hall. "Is her room close by?"

"It's right here," Booth told him, grinning at his son's eagerness. He crouched down in front of him. "Don't forget – very gentle, Park."

"I know, Daddy," Parker insisted, his patience waning. "Can we go in now?"

"Just push on the handle," Booth told him, and smiled when his son bounded through the door.

"Hi, Dr. Bones!" he chirped as he approached her chair. "Daddy said I can give you a very gentle hug. Is that OK?"

"Parker, I can't think of anything that could make me feel better," Bones told him seriously, holding her arms out to him.

Parker slowly approached Brennan, his eyes taking in the IV, the pink line slanting across her forehead where stitches had so recently been removed, the bruises that still, in spite of the passage of two weeks, showed pale yellow against the whiteness of her face. "Are you sure, Dr. Bones?" Parker asked, suddenly tentative. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't, Parker," Brennan assured him. "Come on over."

Parker slowly stepped up next to Bones' side and, ever so slowly, put an arm around her shoulder and pressed his soft cheek to hers. Brennan returned his embrace and turned to press her lips against his temple. "Thanks, buddy," she murmured softly. "That's the best I've felt in weeks."

"I'm glad," Parker replied as he pulled away. "Now that you're feeling better, maybe Daddy will, too."

"Has Daddy been sick?" Brennan asked, her eyebrows raised as she glanced over at Booth.

"Uh-huh. That's why he's been sleeping at the hospital. People don't sleep at the hospital unless they're sick, right?"

"OK, Park, let's give Dr. Bones her flowers and then get you back to your mom," Booth said hurriedly, stepping forward to hand Brennan the flowers and to shepherd his son to the door. "I bet she's really missing you, huh?"

"Just a minute, Booth," Brennan interjected. "What is Parker talking about? Have you been staying at the hospital for the last two weeks?"

Booth sighed and shrugged. "It's no big deal, Bones," he protested. "I just . . . wanted to keep an eye on you."

"Could you come here a minute, Booth?" Brennan asked, smiling softly.

"Sure," Booth replied immediately, crossing over to stand beside her.

"Bend down a little, will you?"

Booth crouched down until he was on eye level with Brennan. "You OK, Bones?"

"I'm great," she told him, and leaning forward, pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, Booth," she whispered, her eyes gazing into his.

"Temperance . . ."Booth murmured, his hand coming up to caress her cheek.

"Look, Aunt Angela, Daddy's gonna kiss Dr. Bones!"

Booth lurched upright so quickly he almost fell over and spun to face the doorway to find Angela, her eyes big as saucers, standing behind Parker.

She smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders. "Oops."

**A/N: I really hope you've enjoyed the latest chapter. I'll post again very soon. Let me know what you think - reviews really feed the muse! Thanks! 3**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Booth nervously jangled his keys in his pocket as he watched the floor indicators light up above the elevator door. After weeks of worrying and waiting, Bones was finally being released today. And he had made sure that he was the only one available to pick her up. Ever since Parker had excitedly declared that he was about to kiss Bones, she had made sure they hadn't been alone. Her father had been there, or her brother. She even thought up reasons to call a nurse in to act as an unknowing chaperon. But there was no way to avoid him in the car, he thought grimly as he stepped off of the elevator and made his way down to her room. One way or another, they were going to talk.

Seeley's brisk steps slowed as he approached Bones' hospital room. A cart was already in the doorway, piled high with Bones' bags. Even as Booth took this in, a man in a dark suit stepped from the room and moved the cart just as an orderly pushed Bones from the room in a wheelchair.

"What's going on, Bones?" Booth asked, confusion and the first stirrings of annoyance evident in his voice.

"Booth," Temperance responded uncertainly, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. I was going to call you and tell you that you didn't need to worry about picking me up."

"Yeah, I can see that," he replied tensely. "That still doesn't answer my question."

"Right. Uh, can we talk as we go?" she asked, glancing back at the orderly. He immediately set off down the hall, the stranger following close behind with the cart. Booth stood rooted in his place for a split second before taking off after them, catching up just as they reached the open elevator.

"Bones, what the hell is going on?" he ground out, glaring at the stranger behind the cart. "Who is this guy?"

"Oh, you mean Jake?" Bones asked with forced nonchalance. "He's the driver my publisher sent. He's taking me to the airport."

"Airport!" Booth exclaimed, his tone incredulous. "Bones, you are not getting on a plane. You're just getting out of the hospital, for God's sake! You're not up to a flight."

"I'll be fine," Temperance replied calmly as the orderly pushed her into the lobby of the hotel. "And please lower your voice."

"I'm not going to lower my voice!" Booth practically shouted as he hurried to keep up. "Not until I understand what is going on here."

"That's my car," Jake intoned from the rear, indicating a late model black Mercedes parked near the curb.

"It's fine, Booth," Brennan said soothingly as Jake started loading her things into the trunk of the car. "My publisher thought I could use some relaxation. He has a house in Italy and offered it to me for a few weeks. It's secluded but near enough to the city that I can get whatever I need. And he's going to have a full time nurse staying with me for the first week or so, just to make sure I don't overexert myself. I'll have time to recover completely and maybe get some work done on my new book. And don't worry," she added, "I'm not flying commercial. The company has a private jet that I'll be taking. It even has a small bedroom, so I'll be able to rest during the trip."

"While that sounds just great, Bones, you should have let me know. I mean, what were you going to do? Not tell me until you landed? Avoid telling me where you were calling from?"

Bones shrugged, her eyes unwaveringly focused on the razor sharp pleat in her slacks. "I thought it might be best for both of us to have a little space."

"Hey, buddy, can you give us a minute?" Booth asked the orderly. "I'll make sure the chair gets back."

"Sure, man, I'll just wait inside the door."

Booth watched the orderly walk away and then crouched down in front of Brennan. "Temperance, I don't understand why you're running away," he said urgently, gripping one of her hands tightly in both of his. "Ever since that day with Parker, you've been pulling back, acting like you're afraid to be alone with me." Tense moments passed as he waited for her to dismiss his concerns but he was met with only silence. "Temperance, _why_?" he asked, his confusion and hurt evident in his tone.

"Look, Booth, we can talk when I get back and . . ." Bones began, but Booth cut her off.

"No, Bones, we talk now. I almost lost you, do you get that?" he asked, his voice raw, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to realize that I hadn't gotten there in time, that you were probably bleeding to death in my arms and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it? I haven't had a decent night's sleep since. Every time I close my eyes, I see you on that Goddamn gurney with the doctor pumping your chest. I swore that as soon as you were up to it, I was going to tell you how I feel and that I want to be with you. I love you, Temperance.

"Booth," Bones whispered, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I just . . . can't do this right now. I can't give you what you want."

"Temperance, I don't want any more than you want to give. We'll just take it slow and . . ."

"You don't understand, Seeley," Brennan exclaimed, jerking back from his touch. "I want to give more than I can, more than I should. I know how you felt because I felt it, too. I thought I was going to die that night, never telling you how much I cared. But that day . . ." her voice faltered and she pressed trembling fingers to her eyes. "That day with Parker," she continued after she regained her composure, "when it all almost became real, I knew I couldn't do it. I'm just not able to risk what I have now for what might be. And . . . I don't think I can be everything you and Parker need. Or deserve."

"You couldn't be more wrong," Booth insisted, his hand gently caressing her cheek. "You _are_ everything I need. And Parker adores you. Please, Bones," he urged. "Stay. Give us a chance."

Brennan finally raised her eyes to meet his and a tear trailed down her cheek as she slowly shook her head. "I can't, Booth," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Are you read to go, Dr. Brennan?"

Bones hurriedly wiped her eyes and wheeled herself back, moving away from a still-crouching Booth. "Yes," she replied, holding a hand out for assistance. "Could you please help me into the car, Jake?"

The driver immediately took her hand a put a supporting arm around her shoulders. Brennan turned back just before she slid into the waiting car. Booth had risen and was watching her silently, his jaw clenching as pain and anger warred within him. "It's just a few weeks, Booth," she whispered. "When I come back, everything will be just like it was. It'll be for the best."

"No, Temperance, it won't," Booth responded hotly. "You do this, you leave, and I apply for a transfer. I can't go back to the way things were and I won't pretend that we're just partners when all I want is to wake up with you every morning for the rest of my life."

Brennan's hand clenched against the doorframe as her gaze took in the determination in Booth's face. She looked as though she was going to say something, but the moment quickly passed. Before Booth could comprehend what she was doing, Temperance slid into the car, Jake shut the door, and the car pulled away.

**A/N: Don't despair, I know what I'm doing:) More angst just means more romance, right? Right. Please let me know what you think of the latest developments - I love getting feedback! Thanks so much for reading - you all are awesome!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Angela Montenegro sat in her office staring listlessly at her computer screen as she tried to summon the interest to start on her latest forensic project – the facial reconstruction of a three hundred year old skull unearthed from a dig near Jamestown. Something like that would usually have kept her working around the clock, the need to see a person's identity take shape under her pencil, but the past few weeks had wrought such change, such upset, that she just couldn't seem to summon any excitement for her work anymore. The sudden shrill ring of the phone cut through her reverie and brought her abruptly back to reality.

"Angela Montenegro," she murmured into the phone.  
"Angela?"

"Brennan!" Angela exclaimed, sitting up in her chair and waving frantically through the glass wall at Jack. "Brennan, why haven't you called? Why didn't you let me know how to get in touch with you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ange," Bones replied. "My publisher is letting me use his house for a few weeks to kind of get myself back together."

"I'm glad you're doing better, Bren," Angela replied as Jack walked into the office. She pointed to the phone and mouthed "Brennan". Jack plopped down in one of the office chairs and shook his head. "About time," he muttered.

"So . . . how is everyone doing?" Brennan asked.

"Everyone's fine," Angela replied, deliberately withholding details.

A long moment of silence passed before Brennan spoke again. "So Jack's good. And Cam. And you're OK."

"Yes, Brennan, we're all great."

Silence again. And then, "How's Booth? Has he been by with any cases?"

"No, he hasn't been by," Angela responded almost shortly. "And I wouldn't know how he is. I haven't seen him in almost three weeks."

"Three weeks? Since I left?" Bones asked, fear entering her voice.

"Since you left," Angela confirmed. "Brennan, he's gone. He put in for a transfer the day you took off for God knows where. I'm not even sure where he is. You know how the FBI is about giving out information and he hasn't called to let us know."

"He . . . he's gone?" Bones whispered. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, Brennan, I'm sure," Angela replied, the slightest tinge of irritation creeping into her voice. "Jack and I spent two days helping him pack and begging him to stay at the same time. He said he told you what he was going to do, though he didn't explain why. You know Booth, Brennan. You know him maybe better than anyone else. Did you really think he was bluffing?"

"I don't know," Bones replied, her voice thick. "I guess I thought that . . . he'd get over it. That everything would go back to normal."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly sure what you thought he'd get over, but if it's what I think it is, you're lucky you're not here right now," Angela said menacingly. "He told you how he felt, didn't he." She wasn't asking a question – she already knew. "And you sent him away." When there was no response, Angela pressed harder. "Is that what happened, Brennan?"

"Close enough," Brennan whispered.

Angela threw her free hand up in the air and gestured wildly to Jack, who was just shaking his head.

"Honest to God, Brennan, how could you do that? Are you so determined to avoid any opportunity of happiness? Isn't it time to get past your childhood? You're an intelligent, beautiful, successful woman and you have an incredible man who loves you more than anything. It's just insane! You're letting something that happened fifteen years ago ruin your life. And it's ruining Booth's, too."

"Do you really think it's that easy, Angela?" Brennan cried, her emotions finally breaking through the walls she had built up. "That it's just like flipping a switch and deciding, OK, now I deserve to be happy. Now I believe that the one person I love, the one person I need more than anyone else will never leave me. I'll never have to pick the pieces up again and start from scratch." She paused and Angela could feel the pain radiating from her across the phone line. "Now I feel like I'm enough," Bones whispered, her voice thick with tears

"Oh, Sweetie, of course I don't think it's easy," Angela replied gently. "But I do think that it's necessary. Sweetie, you will never find anyone to love you the way Booth does. You're a different person with him. You're free and happy and more yourself than you've ever been. You owe it to him and to yourself to fix this. This is your life we're talking about, Brennan. And his. Don't throw it away because you're afraid."

Moments of tense silence passed as Angela waited for a response. All she could hear was the ragged breathing of her friend on the other end of the phone.

"Thanks, Angela," Brennan finally said, her voice shaky but surprisingly strong. "Look, I've got to go. I have a few phone calls to make." Angela heard a click and felt a moment of complete satisfaction. She grinned at her Bug Man as she walked around the desk to sit in his lap. "Jack," she said cheerfully, twirling a curl of his hair around her finger. "The Booth/Brennan love train is back on track!"

* * *

The peal of the phone blasted through the dark stillness of the bedroom and a figure bolted upright and grappled for the light. "This had better be good," he muttered ominously as he blinked owlishly in the sudden brightness and fumbled for the phone. "Cullen," he barked into the receiver.

"Director Cullen, this is Temperance Brennan. I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Of course not, Dr. Brennan," Cullen replied sarcastically as he glanced as his bedside clock. "I always enjoy conducting random conversations at 3:14 in the morning. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry about the hour, Director Cullen," Bones apologized briskly. "But I'm trying to get in touch with Booth. I've called everyone I can think of at the FBI and I get the feeling that I'm being stonewalled."

"You are," Cullen told her bluntly. "Booth informed us that your professional relationship had deteriorated and, as he wanted a fresh start, he needed a transfer. I could tell it was something more and gave orders that you were not to be told anything about his new assignment. Frankly, Dr. Brennan, I don't like to see my people screwed with, if you'll pardon the expression. So if you've called me to try to find out about where he is, you're out of luck."

"Please, Director Cullen, don't hang up," Brennan practically begged. "You're right," she admitted. "You're right about everything. I made a mistake and now I'm afraid I've destroyed any chance I might have had with Booth. But I have to try to make things right with him. All I've done since I was released from the hospital is think about him, about how he's changed my life. He changed _me_. I was a coward three weeks ago; I admit it. But not anymore. I need to see him, to talk to him. Please, give me a chance to fix this."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Brennan waited tensely for his response. Finally, "What do you want me to do, Dr. Brennan? I doubt if he'd even take your call at this point."

Brennan gave a big sigh of relief and smiled. "I know," she acknowledged. "But I have a plan. And I need your help to pull it off."

* * *

"Agent Booth, you're wanted in the conference room."

Booth glanced up from his paperwork and saw his assistant poking his head into the office. "Kind of busy, Tom," he said briskly. "Won't it wait?"

"Sorry, sir, but this is from upstairs. I guess some brass flew in this morning and requested a meeting with you."

"I didn't know we had any top levels scheduled to visit New York," Booth replied, perplexed. "We would have heard about it."

"Don't know, sir," Tom shrugged. "But you better get there ASAP."

"Tell them I'm on my way," Booth ordered as he shrugged into his suit coat. Minutes later he was striding into the main conference room. "Sorry it took me so long, but I . . ." Booth broke off his apology when he saw who was waiting for him. "Director Cullen."

"Agent Booth," Cullen replied, looking completely at ease in one of the comfortable chairs placed around the large conference table. "Have a seat."

Booth sat across from the Deputy Director of the FBI and cocked an eyebrow. "Just dropping in for a visit, sir?"

"This is business, Booth," Cullen informed him sternly. "We've received a request for some international law enforcement cooperation and you immediately sprang to mind as a perfect candidate."

"Excuse me, sir, but the perfect candidate for what?"

"You're going to Italy, Agent Booth, as the FBI's liaison with the Italian National Police. They're starting a new training program in anti-terrorism and the use of forensics in the field. You leave tomorrow morning."

"Excuse me, Director Cullen, but I'm not going to Italy," Booth said emphatically as he rose from his seat. "I'm still getting settled here, learning the ropes, and I have a pretty full caseload. If it would be helpful, I could recommend several people who would do a great job in Italy. But I'm afraid it would be impossible for me to go right now."

"You've misunderstood me, Agent Booth," Cullen replied coolly. "This isn't optional. You're under orders. And I've cleared it with your superiors. This is happening so you might as well head home and start packing. Your tickets and itinerary will be brought to you by an FBI courier by the end of the day."

"Sir, if this has anything to do with Dr. Brennan and me . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Cullen asked, seemingly puzzled at the idea. "Why should Dr. Brennan even enter into the equation?"

"She's in Italy, sir, and I just thought that you might . . ." Booth trailed off and shrugged.

"Booth, in the first place, the FBI has more pressing concerns than your various relationships," Cullen told him witheringly. "And in the second place, Dr. Brennan's whereabouts were completely unknown to me. As it is, her being in Italy is immaterial. This trip is about shoring up international defenses against terrorism and stopping these people in their tracks." He moved around the table to stand next to the younger man and gave him a bracing slap on the arm. "Get your head on right, Agent Booth," he ordered. "Best to forget all about her and focus on the job. That's all you'll have time for."

"Yes, sir," Booth acknowledged. "And thank you for the opportunity."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Flight 224, departing JFK tomorrow at 7:35 AM, arriving at Naples' Capodichino International Airport at 10:00 PM local time. The car will be at the airport and the driver will bring him directly to you. He should arrive at the house around 11:00. Be ready."

The phone clicked and the line went dead. Brennan bent her head and pressed shaking hands to her temples. Tomorrow night. Oh, God, tomorrow night.

**A/N: The muse is really moving on this one - expect updates SOON. And please let me know what you think of the chapter. It really keeps me going. A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far - your comments have been so supportive. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to read my work and to let me know how you feel about it. XOXO!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"_Signore _Booth?"

Booth turned from the dizzying task of watching for his suitcase on the baggage "merry-go-round" to find a tall, impeccably dressed man standing behind him. "Yes?"

"_Signore_, I am Vincenzo. I have been sent from the Villa to collect you and your belongings." He glanced at the conveyor belt and nodded towards it. "This is your bag, _si?_"

Booth looked over and breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes," he agreed. "I had just about given up hope." He moved towards the bag but Vincenzo was there first. "Allow me, _Signore _Booth," he intoned as he hefted the large bag with ease. "The car is just outside. We will be at the Villa within a half hour."

"What's this Villa you keep mentioning?" Booth asked as he followed Vincenzo to a sleek black Mercedes sedan. "Is that my hotel? There wasn't any mention of the name on my itinerary."

"Your hotel . . .Yes, of course, the Villa d'Almalfi." Vincenzo smoothly deposited the bag in the trunk of the car and opened the back door for Booth. "Please excuse my hesitation. Sometimes my English is a bit slow."

"Really," Booth remarked, a little suspicious of the claim as the man spoke English with almost no accent. "I would never have know it."

"_Grazie,_" Vincenzo replied, unperturbed. "Please feel free to rest during the drive, _Signore_ Booth. The trip must have been tiring."

As Booth settled into the lush leather interior of the Mercedes, his last thought before his eyes drifted shut was that the driver's suggestion sounded like a pretty good idea.

* * *

"_Signore_ Booth. _Signore, _we are here."

Booth forced his eyes open and glanced out his open car door. Vincenzo was leaning in, gently shaking his shoulder. "Your bags have been taken in, _Signore_, and Mario will show you the way to your room."

Booth slowly unfolded himself from the car and stretched. _Jeez_, he thought somewhat sheepishly. _I must be getting old. Can't handle travel the way I used to_. He glanced at Vincenzo, waiting patiently to close the door, and reached into his pocket for a tip. "Thanks, Vincenzo," he began, but the driver cut him off.

"No, thank you, _Signore_ Booth. It is not necessary." He shut the car door and moved around to the driver's seat. "Enjoy your stay at the Villa," Vincenzo recommended, and, even in the dark, Booth could have sworn the man was grinning. "_Buonna notte_."

Booth watched the taillights of the car wind their way back down the serpentine driveway, shrugged, and turned to walk up the massive stone steps leading to the villa's entryway. A distinguished looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a rigid posture that Booth's old drill sergeant would have loved was waiting for him.

"Welcome, _signore_, to the Villa d'Almalfi. I am Mario, the _maggiordomo_. Please follow me." He turned and began to make his way across the gleaming black and white marble floors, Booth trailing behind as his tired eyes attempted to take in the unbelievable grandeur of the centuries-old villa.

"It seems kind of quiet around here, Mario," Booth remarked as he followed the _maggiordomo_ up the grand, sweeping staircase. "I was expecting the hotel to be pretty packed."

Mario didn't miss a step as he replied smoothly, "Unfortunately, _Signore_ Booth, it is the off season. We have so few visitors this time of year."

"Really?" Booth asked, doubt evident in his voice. "May is your off season?"

"It is surprising, is it not, _signore_?" Mario stopped in front of a set of double doors and pushed them open, standing aside to allow Booth to enter. "Your rooms, _Signore_ Booth."

Booth stepped through the door and inhaled sharply. The room was magnificent, like something out of an old movie. An enormous, heavily carved canopy bed dominated the room, the hangings done in a rich royal blue silk that complemented the pale blue and gold on the walls. A beautiful walnut wardrobe, richly carved and with a patina only great age can bestow, stood opposite the bed. A set of French doors opened onto a huge stone balcony that overlooked the gently throbbing surf below. Through another open door to his right, Booth could see a small sitting room with beautifully appointed furniture and a wall full of books. Booth walked into the bedroom and stood beside a round, gorgeously inlaid breakfast table and whistled under his breath. "Mario, are you sure this is right?" he asked uncertainly. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but I don't think this is covered in my per diem."

"Off season, _Signore_ Booth," Mario reminded him, his face impassive. "Princes are significantly lower right now. Breakfast will be served on your terrace tomorrow morning. Please just call the kitchens when you wake and let them know what you would like. _Buonna notte_."

Before Booth could ask any more questions, Mario had slipped from the room and gently closed the doors behind him. "But I didn't even get my key," Seeley said to himself in astonishment.

* * *

The warm, bright sunshine that flooded Booth's room and the gentle pounding of the surf just below his balcony brought him gently out of a deep sleep. He stretched contentedly before propping himself up against the plush pillows of his bed. He gazed around his room, his rested eyes taking in details he had missed the night before. The huge vase of fresh, unbelievably fragrant flowers on the bedside table. The gently fluttering curtains framing the French doors. The stunning parquet floors, the wood rich with age and gleaming from tender care. "I could really get used to this," Booth murmured to himself as he glanced around for the phone.

"_Si, Signore_," a voice immediately answered when he picked up the receiver.

"Uh, good morning," Booth replied, somewhat startled at the promptness of the service. "I was told to call the kitchen when I was ready for breakfast."

"Certainly, _Signore_," the disembodied voice responded. "One moment, please."

Almost immediately, Booth was speaking with the kitchen and asked for a traditional Italian breakfast – rich, strong coffee, fresh baked crusty bread, brioche, and _marmaletta_, a type of homemade jam. His mouth practically watering at the thought of what was to come, Booth sauntered into the bathroom for a hot shower and a shave.

Barely twenty minutes later, just as he was buttoning his shirt while staring out at the gorgeous vista from his balcony, he heard a gentle knock at the door. "Come on in," he called over his shoulder. He heard the door open and, still without turning around, said, "Thanks. You can just leave it on the table."

There was silence for a moment and then, quietly, "Hello, Seeley."

She could see the moment he recognized her voice. Tension snapped his shoulders taught under the pristine smoothness of his shirt and she heard his sharply indrawn breath. Long moments passed and Brennan was beginning to think he wasn't ever going to face her when he slowly turned and their eyes caught across the room. His face was starkly white, his eyes narrow as he took in the sight of her. God, it wasn't fair. She shouldn't look so beautiful. Her hair was softer, falling in gentle curls to caress her sun-kissed shoulders. Her skin glowing with health; her lips looked soft and inviting. And, sweet Jesus, where had she gotten that dress? It was light, filmy, as if made from spider webs. The delicate sea green color accentuated her tan as the bodice plunged into a deep "V" between her breasts, the halter-top leaving her back and arms bare, while the fabric seemed to caress her body with her every move. His eyes devoured her as he watched her set his breakfast tray on the table. When she finally came to stand before him, he took an involuntary step back and cleared his throat.

"Temperance," he said, his voice gravelly with shock. "I . . . wasn't expecting to see you."

"I know," Bones acknowledged softly. "I'm sorry to surprise you like that. But I wasn't sure if you'd see me if you knew."

Booth ran a hand through his hair, his agitation plain. "It's alright," he assured her, though his voice lacked conviction. "I thought you were staying at your publisher's house." To his surprise, Brennan blushed and her eyes darted away from his to closely study the intricate pattern on the parquet floor.

"I am," she told him tentatively, her gaze shifting to him and catching his expression of surprise and annoyance when he realized what she was saying.

"So let me get this straight," he finally said, turning to pace the length of the room. "This isn't a hotel."

"No."

"And it would be safe to guess that I wasn't sent over here as the FBI's special liaison to the Italian police."

"Yes. I mean, no, you weren't."

"And it would also be safe to assume that you somehow talked the Deputy Director of the FBI into falsifying orders, lying to a Special Agent, and spending government funds on a plane ticket."

"Well, not exactly," Brennan corrected quickly. "There were no false orders. Cullen found out that you had three years' worth of vacation built up and informed your superiors that you were taking them. And the government didn't pay for your flight. I did."

"You did," Booth repeated, his eyes beginning to flash with temper. "Well, that explains the First Class ticket. Thanks."

"Booth, I know you're upset, but . . ."

"Temperance, this goes beyond 'upset'," Booth corrected her sharply. "I laid myself on the line at the hospital that last day. I told you how I felt, I begged you to stay, and you left. You just got into the car and drove off. Do you have any what that did to me? I left my job, my home, _my son_, just to get away from anything that might remind me of us. Now I find out you've manipulated me and, let's be honest, practically kidnapped me just so we could talk." By this point, Booth was shouting, his face flushed, eyes dark with anger and pain. "So tell me, Dr. Brennan, what on earth could we possibly have to talk about?"

Bones had stood silently throughout his tirade, her eyes never leaving his face, her own tight with sorrow and regret. Now she stepped forward, wiping her damp palms on the frothy skirt of her dress. She took a shaky breath and stiffened her spine as if preparing for a blow.

"I love you."

**A/N: We're on a roll! Please click that little blue button and keep my muse happy:) I can just feel an explosion of fluff coming on!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_Bones had stood silently throughout his tirade, her eyes never leaving his face, her own tight with sorrow and regret. Now she stepped forward, wiping her damp palms on the frothy skirt of her dress. She took a shaky breath and stiffened her spine as if preparing for a blow._

_ "I love you."_

"You . . . what?" Booth asked incredulously, shaking his head as if he couldn't credit what Bones had just said.

"I love you," Brennan repeated, her voice a little stronger. "I'm not expecting you to say anything," she hastened to assure him, almost amused at the dumbfounded look on Booth's face. "You have every right to be angry right now. But I had to see you; I had to let you know. And I didn't think you'd let me within ten feet of you if I tried to find you. So, yes," she admitted defiantly, "I asked Cullen to help me. I lied to you. I got you here under false pretenses. But I thought this was kind of important. So . . ." Here she seemed to run out of steam and she shrugged lamely and turned away.

"Bones, wait."

Temperance turned back, a mixture of fear and hope plain on her face. "Yes?"

"Why did it take all of this for you to say it?" he asked, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Why that scene at the hospital?"

"I'm . . . so sorry about that, Booth," Temperance said softly, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on his face. "You'll never know how sorry. But I was just so afraid."

"Afraid?" Booth repeated incredulously.  
"I know it sounds insane," Brennan admitted, "but you have to understand what I was trying to deal with. I was so sure that if the situation changed between us, if we finally crossed that line and left friendship behind, that I'd lose the most important relationship I'd ever had when we finally called it off. And I knew that it would end. I knew that, eventually, you'd leave and I'd be alone again."

"Bones, why on earth would you think that?" Booth exclaimed, taking a step towards her and raising his arms as if to embrace her, but Brennan stepped back.

"No, Booth, I have to get this out," she said firmly. "I knew I loved you then. I've known for a long time. But I was a coward. I kept thinking of my parents and my brother. I had loved them. They had been the most important people in my life and said they loved me. But they left. All of a sudden, I was alone. There was no one to lean on, no one to comfort me or tell me everything was going to be OK. And then it was a series of foster homes. Some were great, don't get me wrong," she hastened to add as she turned away to study the inlay on the table. "But they never lasted long. It was just me. And that damn black garbage bag. All I had, the only thing that was constant, was school and then my work. I knew who I was in the lab. I could control my environment. But I was still alone."

Temperance suddenly turned back to face him and he felt his heart twist at the tears on her cheeks. He had to fight the impulse to go to her, to tell her to stop, that he understood and loved her more than anything, but he respected her need to explain and so stood as though rooted to the floor.

"Then I met you. And suddenly, there was someone to care again. And someone to care about," Brennan told him, her voice choked with tears. "I felt safe with you. And cherished. Respected. Most of all, I knew that I could count on you no matter what. You have no idea what that meant to me, Seeley. And I wasn't willing to risk that. I didn't want to lose that friendship and that closeness. But when I left you at the hospital, I ended up losing everything anyway."

Booth couldn't just listen any longer. "No, Bones, you didn't," he assured her as he crossed to stand in front of her, his hands gently grasping her shoulders. "I understand, Temperance, I swear I do. But I want you to remember something," he said as he lowered his head to look deeply in her eyes. "My feelings for you will _never_ change or go away or end. I love you. You can count on that for the rest of your life."

Bones slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you so much, Seeley," she murmured. Booth's eyes slid shut as he wrapped his arms around her slender form and rested his chin against her soft hair. "Thank God," he whispered.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

"Hey, I've been looking for you."

Temperance forced one eye open against the brightness of the sun and saw Booth crossing the beach, his smile reaching out to her as he closed the distance between them. Brennan pushed herself up from the soft, hot comfort of the sand and went to meet him, her arms lifting to his shoulders as he bent to gently caress her lips with his.

"Enjoying the last day?" he asked, his hands tracing patterns on the warm skin of her back. "Great bikini, by the way," Booth grinned.

"I'm glad you like it," she replied saucily. "Want to join me?" Bones sat back down on her towel and pulled him down next to her. "We have to enjoy this while we can. It's hard to believe we leave for home tomorrow." She glanced over at him, her brows drawing together in concern when she saw the haunted look on his face. "Seeley? What's wrong?"

"I can't get used to seeing that," he murmured, his fingers lightly following the scar cutting across her abdomen. He bent down and his lips followed the path his fingers had just traced, placing gentle kisses along the puckered pink line. "I'd give anything to take that night back," he murmured as he settled against her, his head resting beneath just above the scar.

"Booth, what do you think you should have done differently?" Temperance asked soothingly, her fingers stroking through his hair. "You got there as quickly as you could. I don't know why you keep thinking you could have gotten there sooner."

The silence stretched between them, an odd tension filling the air. "Bones," he began hesitantly. "I had dreams about it. About that night."

"Oh, Seeley, why didn't you say something?" Brennan asked, her voice soothing. "I've had dreams about it, too. It's just a natural reaction to a horrible situation. The dreams will fade over time."

"No, baby, I'm not talking about dreams now, although I do have them. I had dreams about it happening . . . before it even started."

"Booth, what are you talking about?" Temperance asked, completely confused. "How could you have dreams about it before it started?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Booth acknowledged, pushing himself up and sitting next to her on the towel, gazing out over the startlingly azure sea. "But it's true. Do you remember that morning I came to the lab? It wasn't even 5:00 yet and it was just before we found out about Russ. You asked what was wrong and I told you I had a dream. You just assumed it was about my time in the military. But it was about that night, Bones. And every night I had that dream, the details kept getting more and more vivid. I could see you running down the hallway and into a room. You found the darkest corner you could and huddled there. You kept saying "he promised, he promise", over and over again. And he was taunting you, telling you to come out and play." He glanced over his shoulder to look at Bones and was startled at the stark whiteness of her face. "Temperance? What is it?"

"Booth," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes huge in her face. "How did you know all that? I never told you any of it."

"I saw it all that night," he said as he gripped her hand tightly in his. "When I woke up from that last dream and realized what I had seen and recognized where you were, I got there as quickly as I could. But I should have seen it sooner," he insisted, his voice filled with self-condemnation.

"Let me understand something," Brennan interrupted. "You dreamed about the Gravedigger attacking me. You got into your car, drove like a crazy person to the house, notified the FBI of what was going on before anyone else could have any idea that I was in trouble, and then you saved my life. Is that what you're beating yourself up about?"

"I . . . guess," Booth replied slowly.

"Seeley, you know how difficult it is for me to believe something like that. But there's just no way you could have known all those details. And if you hadn't gotten there when you did, we wouldn't be here right now. I'm beyond lucky to just have this scar. Don't ever forget that." She cupped his face in her hands and gazed deeply into his eyes. "Thank you," she murmured.

Booth ran his thumb over the soft fullness of her lower lip. "You're welcome."

Bones gave a shaky laugh and leaned down to press her mouth to his, her lips moving gently over his. "Seeley, I love you." Temperance pulled back and grinned. "Have you been having any other dreams you want to tell me about?"

Booth laughed as he pressed her back in the sand and moved over her, his weight supported on either side of her. "I'll be sure to let you know."

**A/N: As always, let me know what you think. I really hope you like this latest chapter. And I need fuel - I feel a wrap up chapter coming on. Press that little blue button and keep me going! Thanks so much!**


	24. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Christmas Eve, 2013_

"Hey, Bones, you doing OK in there?" When no reply was forthcoming, Booth hurried into the kitchen, eyes searching every corner of the room. He finally found her on her hands and knees reaching under the table with a set of cooking tongs. "Baby, what in the hell are you doing?" he exclaimed as he rushed over to her. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, Seeley," Temperance responded, amused and just a little bit frustrated at the same time. "One of the hot pads fell behind the table and I need it in order to get the turkey out of the oven. And if I don't take it out now, it'll be completely inedible."

Booth sighed heavily as he helped Bones to her feet. "Temperance," he said patiently, "if you need help with something like that, call me. I'm just in the next room. You shouldn't be crawling around on the floor in your condition." His hand reached out to gently caress her swollen belly and his attention was rewarded by a sound kick.

Bones smiled gently and reached up to smooth her hand over his cheek, the light dancing off the two rings on her slender finger – a slim band studded with diamonds resting just beneath a beautiful diamond solitaire. "Booth, women have been having babies for thousands of years. Even today, in some cultures a woman gives birth and goes back to work immediately. She just ties the baby to her breast and keeps going."

"Yeah, you're not sucking me in with all that anthropology stuff," Booth retorted. "I don't care what women have been doing for thousands of years or what they do in some cultures. You're my wife, I love you, and you're going to let me pamper you a little, alright?" He chucked her under the chin and raised her face to his. "Humor me."

Temperance pressed a soft kiss to her husband's lips and rested her forehead against his. "OK," she smiled. "But just because it's Christmas. Which I still think is a fallacy because evidence indicates that if the birth of Jesus happened at all, it was in April. December 25 was merely chosen in order to . . ."

Booth gently pressed a finger to her lips, loving exasperation evident on his face. "Bones, I'm sure it's all very interesting and scientific, but let's just enjoy the night. Angela and Hodgins are going to be here any minute, Parker is in the living room counting the presents under the tree with Russ's girls, your dad has spent the last twenty minutes trying to light 'the perfect Christmas fire' in the fireplace. . . and you have to take the turkey out of the oven."

Temperance gasped, the centerpiece of her dinner completely forgotten, and snatched up her hot pads. Dashing over to the oven, she gently slid the turkey out and gave a satisfied smile at its golden-brown perfection. "Just right," she announced just as the doorbell rang.

"That'll be Angela and Jack. I'll get it," Booth said as he headed for the swinging door. He turned back suddenly and winked at his wife. "I love you, Mrs. Booth."

Temperance Brennan Booth rested her hand on the gentle swell of her child and smiled softly. "I love you, too."

**A/N: ****I hope you like this little wrap up chapter. **I just needed pure fluff after that episode tonight. While it was great to see Bones' character being human and really reaching out, it was just so SAD. I needed to write something that was pure escapism and that put my two favorite characters where I want them to be. When I saw Bones cooking (for tonight's episode), the epilogue just wrote itself. Thank you for your time, your awesome reviews, and your support of my writing. **And thank you so much for sticking with the story for the last two years (!). You have all been so patient and I hope it was worth it. XOXOXOXOXO**


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